


The Spoils of War

by RedAce999



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Arranged Marriage, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, King Bellamy Blake, Princess Clarke Griffin, Royalty, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-01 08:41:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 28,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20255314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedAce999/pseuds/RedAce999
Summary: Clarke Griffin, the Princess of Arkadia and the only daughter of deceased King Jacob has become the spoils of war in a battle for the throne of Arkadia. She is tied to the crown and unable to escape its' heavy burdens and is forced to marry her family's enemy in order to unite the kingdom and end the bloodshed. But she refuses to go quietly. She will not submit to her destiny or succumb to the ambitions of those around her in order to live her life for herself and find happiness. And if not, then she'll bring them all down with her.Winning the crown will seem like childs play when compared to the battle that will come next for the King of Arkadia.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I hope you enjoy my story! Please let me know if you like it and want to read more. Thanks!

Gazing forlornly out her bedroom window, Clarke watched as the sun rose slowly over the grove of trees that surrounded her mothers' family's estate, chilled by the cold stone of the window sill that she sat upon, wearing only her nightgown to protect her from the morning frost. Clarke observed with mild fascination as the world began to wake, shaking away the shadows of the night to begin another day and she wondered idly, how everything could appear so beautiful, so tranquil even after all the violence and blood that had been shed. It was as if the past few years had never happened, as though nothing bad was going to or would happen still. And in those few frozen moments of pre-dawn darkness as the sun’s rays continued their arduous ascent, Clarke allowed herself to forget.

Since the moment she was born, Clarkes' life was tied to the crown of Arkadia. As its' Princess she would grow, live, marry and die as it best suited the crown and its kingdom. At least that’s how it had been until two years ago when, after the abrupt death of her father King Jacob, the throne was abruptly claimed by Thelonious Jaha, subsequently cutting Clarke and her mother off from the crown and its heavy responsibilities. For those brief two years, Clarke had allowed herself to begin to hope, that she no longer had to live her life according to her royal birth, as a pawn for her kingdoms interests. But then, Crown Prince Wells, Jahas' only son and heir died due to a lingering childhood illness and Jahas' reign began to break down.

Not six months later there were rumours of an usurper from across the ocean, a banished duke, with a claim to the throne, rallying forces to take the sovereignty of Arkadia and crown himself King. Those rumours came true a week ago when a somewhat ragged army of delinquents and mercenaries, outcasts from foreign lands, landed ashore on Floukru bay, led by the usurper, commanding their advance across the country to meet in battle with Jahas' waiting forces.

Under normal circumstances, Clarke could not have cared less which of the two won the crown nor if they should both fall in battle; one had taken her fathers' crown after his sudden death, suspending her mother and herself in limbo while the other was a complete stranger to her, an outsider who had grown up separate to Arkadia and would have meant little to Clarke if not for her mothers' ever enduring ambition.

Clarke was shaken from her train of thought when the tranquil peace of the garden was disrupted by the thundering of hooves and the rising shouts of men. Panic had Clarke jumping down from her spot at the window and racing down the halls of the manor, full of the slowly waking members of her mothers' household.

“Mother! Mother! The soldiers are coming!” Clarke called, bursting into her mother’s rooms.

“So soon? Well, the King certainly does not waist time.”

“I am not yet dressed. I must wake the maids.”

“No. There won’t be any time for that. If he has sent his guards at this hour, it is unlikely they will wait for you to be properly presentable.” Walking over to her cupboard in haste, Abigail Griffin tore out a simple outer slip dress and thrust it at Clarke. “Quickly now. Put this on. I shall have the maids attempt to stall them for as long as they can.”

There was a crash and then a bang below, as the heavy front doors were knocked aside and thundering boots pounded against the floors of the home. Shrieks and shouts of alarm erupted throughout the manor and before long the soldiers were spread out going from room to room. They forced all they found from their beds and their stations, into the manors' largest room, the banquet hall.

They had yet to reach the upper floors, when a man, donned in expensive cloth and cape, a fine sword of nobility at his hip, swaggered into the room, gazing around at the contents with mild interest as though he were observing his recent winnings from a game. This man was no foot soldier, the way the other men, all differing in their accents and quality of armour and weaponry, calmed down from their recent excitable plundering of the manors' contents and servants, now awaiting their next orders, was indication enough.

“We have come to collect the Princess Clarke, on behalf of his majesty the King of Arkadia.” The nobleman proclaimed, looking to the frightened servants scattered about the room in varying states of dress.

None gave him answer, instead, an equally authoritative and eloquent voice that only nobility and royalty can attend to, spoke out, “Lord Murphy, what an unexpected pleasure for you to come attend us this early in the day. I would offer you tea but the servants were not yet even awake before you arrived, forgive my inattentiveness.”

Lord Murphy smirked at the back handed snide, “Dowager Queen Abigail, a pleasure as always, but we have not come for your tea today, we have come for your daughter. Where is she? Bring her to me immediately.”

“That won’t be necessary Lord Murphy, I am here.” Clarke announced, stepping into the crowded room after her mother.

Lord Murphy’s thin lips stretched across his face into a menacing smile as his eyes alighted on the Princess, not even bothering to hide his leering stare. “Princess Clarke, you are as beautiful as rumours say, the King will be most pleased. I am here to escort you to the capital, your highness, by his majestys' request.” Lord Murphy bowed to her, only partially mockingly.

_He’s enjoying this_, Clarke noticed when she caught the sneering gleam in his eye, _He would never have been able to address me as such when my father was King._

Clarke felt bitterness on her tongue at that last thought, her hatred and frustration at her helplessness, boiling in her veins, was now squarely directed at this rude, contemptuous man that was here on orders of the King. This was how she was to be treated by the King of Arkadia, she; the daughter of King Jacob and Queen Abigail, Princess of Arkadia. Even more than the hateful man before her, she felt her anger at the King grow tenfold, simmering beneath her skin, seconds away from bursting forth and wreaking havoc on those before her.

As though sensing her daughters train of thought, Abigail clasped Clarkes' hand in her own, squeezing it gently, until she felt her daughters hand relax, her emotions once again under control and hidden behind the well-crafted mask of indifference, as she had done all her life. Growing up in a royal court, had taught young Clarke much, but one of the most crucial was her ability to control her emotions and reactions, tailoring them into skilfully constructed disguises, not allowing anyone the advantage of knowing her true thoughts or opinions. It had been about survival, and she had been a fast leaner even at a young age.

“Of course, she shall be made ready to leave soon.” Abigail covered for her daughter.

“No, we shall leave immediately.” When it looked as though the Dowager Queen would object Lord Murphy continued, “Your things shall be packed and taken to the Capital at a later date, do not worry, we would not leave you ladies without your finery and dresses.”

Clarke seethed at the Murphys' jibe, “It is a three days ride to the Capital, if not all our belongings, we shall need a few things for the road.”

Lord Murphy paused, “Very well. Pack what little you’ll need and prepare for departure. We leave within the hour. No later.”

*****

“This is how I am to be treated by the King of Arkadia?! Are we not his very important guests that he could not delay to send men out to collect at the crack of dawn?! Now we are the ones who must wait for him?!”

It was a long gruelling journey of three and a half days length that finally arrived them at the capital and then shortly inside the Palace that housed the Royal family of Arkadia. Tired from the journey Clarke and her mother, were quickly and quietly hastened to a secluded, dark wing of the palace, and left with three ladies in waiting, in a small damp room and only a single bed, that would barely fit them both comfortably. Clarke was furious.

“He does not even come to greet us when we arrive and instead shuffles us off out of the way into a closet room, to wait for him to grace us with his presence.”

“He is King, we are not. He may treat us however he pleases and there is little we can do about it.” Clarke huffed, stomping her foot childishly in weak protest, “Be patient Clarke. I know it is frustrating, but at this moment in time, it is all was can do. Rest now. Try and sleep and gain back your strength to better deal with whatever tomorrow brings.”

Clarke glared only a moment more, before relenting and flopping down next to her mother, sighing in defeat.

“Do you think he means to leave us here? Live out our lives, locked away behind these four walls? Out of his way, so that our allies cannot bolster support for us?”

“I suppose it is possible, but I find that unlikely, he would be better served for it to appear as though we support his rule. It would lend him greater power and authenticity as King. In any case, for now we are safe and so long as the King decides to keep to our arrangement, we shall remain that way.”

They spoke little more before they drifted off to sleep.

*****

It had been days since Clarke and her mother had arrived in the capital and then be quickly shut away in their hidden room, and they had yet to see no hear one hair of the King of Arkadia. Clarkes fury and frustration was growing, her mood darkening with each passing hour as they were left to their own devices, as though put on hold once again, awaiting the King to tell them when they were needed. A sharp prick and pinch of pain, brought Clarke out of her blind rage, hissing, she brought her finger to her mouth, soothing the pain.

“Be more careful Clarke, try and pay attention to what you are doing.” Her mother chided, as her experienced hands weaved the needle seamlessly back and forth through the fabric. “You’ve poked more holes in yourself than you have in that piece of fabric.”

Glancing down, Clarke examined the meagre beginnings of what would have been a white rose. The white embroidery was now stained red by the blood she had drawn from her own hand. Tossing it aside she stood and began to pace, unable to restrain herself any longer.

“I cannot take all this waiting much longer, mother. Doesn’t he know who we are?”

Abigail, glanced up, calmly examining her daughter, a slightly sardonic glint in her eye, “Oh he knows very well who we are. It was why he brought us here so soon after he won his battle. I assume he is making us wait to impress on us his Kingly power and authority that he can and will make us wait for however long he chooses, despite who we are. That is what it is to be King, and as his subjects we must dance to whatever tune he plays.”

“How are you so calm?" Clarke cried, "Don’t tell me you’re okay with this?”

Putting aside her own fabric, Abigail made her way over to her daughter, taking her smaller hands within her own, “Of course, I am not okay. I may appear calm, but I am just as frustrated Clarke. I was once mistress of this castle and now here I am, put aside, neglected and treated as such in my own home. Of course, I am not okay.”

“But then-“

“Life in the royal court as you well know Clarke is difficult, it is dangerous, one wrong look, a slip of the tongue could cost you everything.”

“I know, mother. I just can’t pretend that I am okay with this.”

Moving sharply with a sudden ferocity that it shocked Clarke, the Dowager Queen, grasped her daughters forearms in her grip, almost to the point of pain. “Don’t forget Clarke, and don’t forgive. Bury all your feelings deep down and bide your time. Make them see you as biddable and humble, but be defiant and vengeful. You shall become a serpent in the birds nest. You must make them pay for everything they’ve done to us. For yourself, for me, for your father. Never forget.”

This was the first time Clarke had seen her mother so full of hate and fury, and it scarred her.

There was a commotion outside their door, a clambering of footsteps paraded towards them. There were three sharp, short knocks, “Prepare to meet his majesty the King!”

Clarke and her mother had barely enough time to turn towards the door, quickly collecting themselves and schooling their expressions into cold stone, before the door was flung open and two guards marched in moving to stand at attention either side of the open door to allow the King of Arkadia to step through the door and come face to face with its occupants.

“Presenting, the Dowager Queen Abigail and her daughter, Princess Clarke of Arkadia.” Her mother curtseyed, but Clarke remained standing. All the anger that had been building up in her ever since the soldiers come to collect her that morning- no, for even longer than that, since the death of her father- was now burning beneath the ice cold blue of her eyes and it was aimed entirely at the man that stood tall before her.

“His Majesty King Bellamy of Arkadia.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the second chapter! Hope you all enjoy it!!

The tension grew thick in the air, like electricity it had Clarke stunned, frozen in place as she indulged in her childish defiance and fury. She knew what she was doing was reckless, but frankly she could care less. Adrenaline was pumping through her veins and she felt her vision tunnel, blocking everything and everyone else out. It was just her and the King.

To his credit, Clarke noticed he neither flinched nor showed any reaction to her blatant stare down of him. He remained impassive, unperturbed by her behaviour, which only infuriated her more.

“You shall curtsey when presented to the King.” Came a curt voice.

Out of the corner of her eye, Clarke saw that it was Diana Sydney, a some-what mother figure to Bellamy after he had been exiled. Taken from his mother’s care as a boy, who had been made to remain. Aurora Blake, Bellamy’s mother, Clarke remembered had been executed by Jaha only a year prior.

Turning her attention back to the King, Clarke composed herself, dipping slowly into a shallow curtsey, “Your Majesty.”

“Princess Clarke, good day.”

Recovering from her curtsey, Clarke returned her gaze to the King’s face, only to see it broken by a patronizing smirk on his lips, an amused spark in his eye.

“Please, make yourself comfortable, your Grace. Would you care for some refreshments? Wine perhaps?” The Dowager Queen intercepted, stepping closer to her daughter as though to retrain her with her presence.

“Thank you Dowager Queen.” Bellamy inclined his head slightly, addressing Abigail all the while keeping his gaze locked with Clarkes’.

Clarke was drawn in by his deep brown eyes, that were akin to two swirling pools of tar. Most people were easy for Clarke to read, the moment she met their eyes, but Bellamy was unreadable. The more she tried to search his eyes, the deeper she fell, like a curious little child, peering into a bottomless well. She was nearing death and yet she didn’t pull back.

Bellamy was the first to look away. Cup in hand, he moved to sit on the provided seat, taking a sip and glancing over Clarke once more.

“Do you play?”

It took Clarke a moment to realise that the King was addressing her. “Play, your Grace?”

“The Harp. I had one of my guards bring it along with me as I had heard that you played rather well.” He gestured to where one of his men was holding a beautifully crafted Harp, outstretched in offering to her.

“I do, your Grace.”

“Lovely. If you wouldn’t mind.”

Clarke felt herself jolt. Her eyes widened slightly as she turned aghast towards her mother, incredulous. To be called on to perform for him, to entertain him, was completely humiliating, but instead of sympathy or any form of objection from her mother all she saw was a steel-like hardness in her eyes. Her mother was in battle mode.

Remembering the words of her mother mere moments earlier, Clarke buried her hatred and her rage down deep, recomposing her features before turning back to the offered musical instrument and taking it in hand. She moved to sit in the positioned seat opposite the King and in the centre of the room, automatically moving into position to play the familiar instrument in her hands.

Many had thought her mother had been the one to teach Clarke a love and mastery of music, but in fact it had been her father. The King had doted on his daughter, and had greatly enjoyed teaching her to play on many different instruments, the harp being just one. Music had been his passion.

Clarkes’ heart beat out her pain, as her fingers fell to settle lightly on the strings. She felt sick with grief and anger at having to play for someone so abhorrent to her. To share with him something so precious to herself and her memories with her father, but one last quick glance back at her mother and she swallowed down her pride.

It was in that moment she realised what she would have to do, what she would have to become in order to survive in this world and to protect those she loved. She would have to let go of things that were precious to her; her values, her pride, her happiness, her freedom. But, she reaffirmed with renewed determination, only for now, she would reclaim those important parts of herself back as soon as she had gained back power from these horrid people.

And so, with one last unsteady breath, Clarke let go of it all and began to play.

Clarke was a brilliant harpist, she had heard many noblemen and court musicians say so themselves. She played with a grace that was befitting of a Princess. So it came as a shock when not even half way into her piece she was rudely interrupted.

“Very well played, Princess Clarke, I can see your talent was not exaggerated.”

Clarke could not believe what she was hearing. First he forces her to perform for him and then he interrupts her playing to tell her she ‘played well’?! Clarke' fury simmered beneath the surface, the only indicated by the biting of her nails into her palm.

“I’m afraid I must return to my duties as King, tempted as I am to remain idle here in your company.”

With that he stood, and with no more ceremony exited the room as he had come, followed soon after by his guards leaving only Diana hovering behind.

“We shall arrange to set a date. No doubt we shall want you married quickly so that you may produce an heir as soon as possible.” And with that Clarke and her mother were left to the quiet of their now emptied chambers, their ladies-in-waiting amusing themselves with a game of cards in the corner.

Clarke felt as though she had just been slapped. Twice. Once by the King and then again by Diana.

Clarkes’ rage though quickly turned to cold white fear and hopelessness at the reminder of why they had been brought in the first place. Up until then Clarkes’ anger had done the job of distracting her from the trips true purpose. Her betrothal to Bellamy.

Turning towards her mother, Clarkes’ eyes glimmering with welling tears both for her recent humiliation as well as the bleakness of her future. The Dowager Queen softened only slightly, reaching out to place a comforting hand on her daughters’ shoulder.

“I knew that we were betrothed. I just never really accepted that we would actually have to marry. I thought – I hoped that somehow- someone would stop this.” Her mother squeezed her shoulder. “How am I supposed to live the rest of my life with that horrid man? How could you do this to me?”

“Clarke, I did this _for_ you. You may not see it that way now, but in marrying Bellamy you will become the Queen of Arkadia. You will have power, status and everything you had before your fathers’ death. I would not have you condemned to some other lesser life, banished, married to some minor nobleman or, god forbid, a commoner whom is far beneath your station.”

Appalled, Clarke tore herself away from her mother, the feeling of betrayal cutting her deep.

“’Lesser life’? You would rather I suffer married to that man, a man who’s greatest pleasure it seems is to humiliate me, rather than someone else, someone whom I might love, because what? Because he’s King?!”

The Dowager Queen, pursed her lips, her face returning to its stony exterior. They had had similar fights over the past six months or so, as soon as Abigail had revealed to Clarke the agreement she had made with the then usurper, who had begun to rally support for his cause.

“That’s it isn’t it?! You don’t care what happens to me, just so long as I wear the crown! You couldn’t get enough of playing Queen, of the power it gave you, so now you’ll make me play it in your stead! Well you can forget it!”

Their ladies had gone quiet in their corner, doing a terrible job of pretending they weren’t eavesdropping on the escalating argument.

“All I wanted all my life was to be free to make my own choices. Well now I don’t have any left! I can’t even choose whom I marry-“

Knowing their ladies true purpose, as spies for Bellamys’ court, the Dowager Queen snatched her daughter quickly into the adjoining room, only slightly more secluded from prying eyes and ears.

“Let go!” Clarke, wrenched her arm from her mothers grasp, her face was flashed in anger. Turning to once again continue venting her frustrations at her mother, she was abruptly cut off by the sharp stinging of her cheek, that sent her head snapping to the right.

Shocked silence, stretched between them, as Clarke stared at her mother, dazed.

“Wake up! There was never any other life for you than this! When are you going to grow up and realise that what you have been given is an opportunity. An opportunity so many women never get. You will be wife to the King. You will be the most powerful and respected woman in the Kingdom. I gave that to you.”

Clarke was tearing up again, cradling her cheek in her hand.

“Stop crying.” Abigail sighed in frustration, “You are still young, so you won’t understand, but in this world, power is everything, strength is everything. And if you have neither, you die. Love is meaningless in this world if you don’t have the power to protect it.”

“You loved my father.”

“Yes, I did. But I was lucky enough to fall in love with the King.” Clarkes’ mother paused, reassessing her daughter, “I know this marriage is not what you wanted Clarke, and the path ahead will be difficult, but I am only doing what I think is best. I am trying to protect you as your mother.”

Clarkes’ eyes narrowed, “More like you’re protecting the throne.”

What little compassion that had seeped into her mothers’ expression was quickly stamped out.

Turning away from the Dowager Queen, wiping away her tears Clarke quickly collected herself, “It does not even matter. He did not seem to want to marry me in any case.”

“Oh, he will marry you. His reign is still new and unstable. He needs you to win the support of the people and the noblemen who support us. If he does not, you can expect he will not keep the crown for long. And I doubt he would risk that after everything he has done in order to capture it.”

*****

“I refuse to marry her.”

That single sentence set off a loud uproar throughout the room, among Bellamy’s privy council.

“There are plenty of foreign princesses who’s marriage would give the kingdom better economical standing as well as trading rights and wealth. No doubt they would be better suited to being Queen and would make a more obedient wife.”

“That is all well and good your Grace,” spoke up Lord Miller, “But none of them would unite the kingdom or strengthen the support of the people which would solidify your ruling as King.”

“You are suggesting I do not have their support Lord Miller?”

“Of course not your Grace but-“

“Absolutely not!” Diana interrupted, “You have their support Bellamy, you need not fear that but-“

“-But should you not marry her, your reign will be the shortest in history.” Marcus Kane cut in. “You swore to marry the princess before you were crowned King. An oath which won many of the kingdoms nobles to your side, may I remind you. Those same nobles will be provoked to turn against you should you renege on your word. She is their princess, your Grace, she is much beloved, for herself as much as for who her father was.”

“You pledged to unite the kingdom, your Grace. The kingdom which had been broken after King Jacobs death, it is why you have us on your council.” Lord Miller continued gesturing to those around him, “I can only advise you about how the other noblemen, loyal to King Jacob and his family will react, if you do not marry her.”

“There is also the matter of how you are still seen by the people your Grace,” Lord Murphy interjected.

“And how is that Lord Murphy?”

Murphy hesitated, “Forgive me your Grace, but you are seen as an outsider. Arkadian by birth you may be, but as you grew up outside of our kingdom, many see you as a usurper with no real claim to the throne and who knows little of out customs and traditions.”

“Many may choose to support another, if they do not believe your claim to be authentic, your Grace and your marriage to the Princess Clarke will make it so.” Kane agreed.

Bellamy paused to consider all that was said, “You are saying that I have not yet secured my crown? But they have no one to replace me with. Jaha was killed in battle and his son is long since dead.”

There was a brief, loaded silence, as many noblemen seated at the table exchanged knowing, cringing glances. Seeing this, Bellamy straightened slightly, becoming aware of a possible threat to his rule, he glanced between his advisors slightly panicked.

“You know of someone?” Everyone avoided his eyeline, “Who is it? Who would they support over me?”

Lord Kane was the one to finally, face the King with the truth, “The Princess, your Grace.”

Shock flashed across Bellamy’s face, “Princess Clarke? They would turn against me and give their support to her?!”

The silence that met him was all the confirmation he needed.

Falling slowing back into his seat Bellamy contemplated this, “I see.”

“Of course that will not matter once you’ve married the girl. Once the people see she is on your side, that she supports your rule, there is no other threat to be had against you.” Diana assured him, but the King remained silent.

“You may take a lover if you wish. Take anyone you choose. But we insist that you must marry Princess Clarke and make her your Queen.”

Nodding slowly to himself, absorbing the information he had just been presented, Bellamy stood slowly to his feet. Giving his reluctant consent for them to begin preparations he dismissed the council, and withdrew to his chambers to be left alone for the rest of the day.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! I really did not mean for it to take this long to update, but finally, here is the third chapter and I hope you all enjoy it and that it was worth the wait.

This wasn’t how Bellamy had pictured it. His triumphant return to Arkadia and the winning of the crown from the homeland he had been unjustly and cruelly banished from was supposed to be every bit as glorious as promised. He had everything he thought he had ever wanted.

Throughout his years of banishment, growing up in foreign lands, he had at times been homeless and starving and would have had to rely on the kindness of strangers. It had been a dark a trying time of Bellamy’s past. The only thing that had seen him through it all had been one goal -one hope- the promise of the Crown of Arkadia, his destiny.

He had worked tirelessly for years; training in sword fighting, archery as well as battle tactics and politics, all in order to prepare him for his future as King. There was so much he had sacrificed in order to make it to where he was currently pacing; the Kings chambers – _his_ chambers.

Bellamy had never felt so naïve in his life. As though all his troubles and worries would all be over once he had won the throne. What a joke.

There was a knock at his door, “Your Majesty, Lady Sydney to see you.”

“Let her in.”

The doors were pushed open and in strode the Lady herself.

“Bellamy, you needn’t let what the Lords said worry you too much. You are King now.”

“Yes, I am King now. I am King so long as I marry the Princess, isn’t that right? What kind of King depends on the influence of his wife.”

Taking a step closer to Bellamy, Diana rested a comforting hand on his shoulder, “I know this is not what you imagined being King would entail, but power requires sacrifice. And your marriage to the girl is just that. A sacrifice you must make for your crown.”

Bellamy scoffed turning away from the Lady, muttering, “I am the most powerful man in the kingdom and I must still sacrifice.” Bellamy scoffed, “Power is a funny thing.”

A tense silence followed.

“And what of her supposed power to overthrow me. Isn’t making her Queen like inviting her to take my thrown? Wouldn’t it be better to banish her instead?”

“And give her the same opportunity you were given to rally supporters and storm the kingdom just as you have done? No. Banishment is out of the question. Better to keep her and her mother close so we can keep an eye on them and use their influence at court to our advantage.”

Bellamy slumped in defeat. “Very well. I see I must make my peace with this then.”

“Very good Bellamy.”

“However, I will insist I must have my coronation first. The people must see me as the sole King, not joint ruler with the Princess. Once I am crowned King I shall then see about marrying her.”

“That sounds like a wise plan. I shall inform your council and have the arrangements made as such.”

And with that the Lady turned to leave only pausing briefly at the door to say, “Perhaps you should try to get to know the girl, gain her trust. She will be of more use to us if she is obedient to you.” And then she was gone, her heavy skirts swishing against the cold floor.

Bellamy fell back into his chair, sighing he ran a hand through his hair. “Lincoln.”

“Yes your Grace.”

“Send for my sister. She should be settled in by now.”

“Of course your Grace.”

*****

Clarke sat pin straight staring aggressively down at the flicker embers by her feet, the anxious tapping of her fingers and the rhythmic pulling of her mother’s needle and thread were the only sounds in the room. The hours seemed to pass painfully slow for Clarke, even more so than before the Kings abrupt visit, which Clarke could not stop playing over and over in her mind, serving only to stoke her negative disposition.

To make matters worse, she was currently engaged in a stand-off with her mother, whom she had refused to acknowledge for some hours now. Her mother unimpressed, sat waiting patiently for her daughters temper to mitigate.

Abigail Griffin however, had never been known for her patience.

“Alright, that’s quite enough, Clarke. You’re being childish now. It’s unbecoming.”

Clarke bit back her snap reply, clenching her hands into fits, fighting to swallow her anger. Despite how she felt, she did not wish to fight with her mother again, it would not serve her well to do so. She had never won against her in any case.

With a sigh, Abigail, stood to approach her daughter, no doubt another lecture forming on the tip of her tongue when the sound of the door creaking open, stopped short whatever would have followed. Both mother and daughter, shaken from their growing frustrations, turned in slight alarm to the door. Swallowing back the beginnings of panic Clarke reschooled her features and stood to turn towards the door, mentally preparing herself if it should be another surprise visit from the King.

It was not however, much to the shock to the occupants within the room, the King that made his way into the rooms. Instead a girl, around the same age as Clarke, stepped in green eyes, wide with curiosity and mischief.

“So you are the one that is to marry the King. Hmm not what I was expecting.”

“Pardon? Are you lost? Who are you?” Clarke stepped forward, completely stumped as to what was happening.

“I’m not lost, I came to see you. Well, to see what you were like. It took me a while to find out where the King had hidden you but I was able to trick one of the maids into telling me where you were.”

“Alright?”

The girl stepped closer to Clarke not bothering to hide her obvious examination of the Princess. “You’re not exactly what I imagined when I was told of you. You’re much prettier, though perhaps not as sharp as I had been led to believe.”

Now Clarke was offended, “We’ve not even been properly introduced and you are already making judgements of me. I would advise holding off on your premature studying of my character until such a time that is more appropriate.”

The girl did not appear to be fazed by the reprimand and instead appeared quite amused. “You might just be right. I think I shall do as you have advised.”

“You will have to excuse me, but would you please identify yourself? You are in the presence of the future Queen of Arkadia, I must ask you who you are to address her in such a manner.” Abigail interceded, only her shock having prevented her earlier involvement.

“Forgive me for my poor manners, Dowager Queen Abigail, allow me to introduce myself; I am Lady Octavia Blake, sister to the King.”

Neither woman in the room had been expecting the sudden introduction and were left unprepared with a response.

“I was unaware that you were in the Capital, Lady Blake. We had been informed that you remained in the countryside with your aunt, Lady Indra.”

Octavia waved her hand as though to brush the explanation away. “Never mind that, I was brought to the Capital to live with my brother a few days ago. He’s very protective of me and likes to have me nearby.”

Left uncertain of what else was to be said, Clarke faltered slightly, having been until then constantly tripped up by the King’s sister.

So it was quite fortunate that at that moment, guardsmen arrived, in tow of a large intimidating man, no doubt a high ranking officer of the King’s guard, storming into their chambers and crowding what little room was left spare.

“Lady Octavia.” The officer addressed her, bowing slightly in respect, before quickly turning and bowing to Clarke and her mother, “Princess Clarke, Dowager Queen Abigail, my apologies, on my unannounced arrival.”

“Lincoln.” Octavia turned to the officer in surprise, “What are you doing here?”

“My Lady, I have been sent to find you. The King has requested your presence.”

Octavia paused before sighing, resigned.

“Well, I’m sure I can’t keep the King waiting now can I, even though I’m his sister and have my own matters to attend to, I must at once drop everything and attend to the King.”

Clarke noticed with increased interest, the slight edge of bitterness in the lady’s tone, something Clarke had had in her own more often than not in recent days. She felt herself smile, slightly at this new piece of knowledge. Perhaps she could make a friend of the King’s sister or at least have a companion for their shared frustrations at the King. She would have to wait and see a while longer whether this could actually be the case, but this new prospect did wonders for her mood. Clarke was perhaps no longer so alone.

“Very well, I shall take my leave then.” Octavia instructed, “It was lovely to meet you at last. I look forward to getting better acquainted with you at a later date, Princess Clarke.”

“You as well, Lady Octavia.”

With a final curtsey to Clarke’s mother Octavia left, followed by a stream of guards, who hurriedly trailed after her. Lincoln, as Octavia had addressed him, was the last to leave, bowing one last time with a repeated apology, before Clarke and Abigail were left to themselves once again.

“Well I can certainly see the family resemblance.” Abigail was the first to break the silence.

“Yes, they appear to both be fond of unannounced, surprise visits.” Clarke mused returning to her seat by the fire, as she thought over recent developments, “It seems I will have to be constantly on my guard around those two.”

“Yes, I would have to agree. Particularly with the sister, I would say. It seems to me that she is quite more capable than she first appears to be.”

“Yes I got that sense as well.”

That was all that was said between mother and daughter on the subject, before they both returned to their previous activities, though with slightly less anger as before.

*****

“Lincoln tells me that you were with the Princess and her mother when he found you.” Bellamy remarks, staring quizzically at his sister, waiting for an explanation.

“Yes, I was. Not what I had been expecting if I am to be honest. Very pretty, for sure, but as for her character, well I have decided to withhold my judgment, for now at least.”

“And why is that? You have always been quick to make up you mind about people, what makes the Princess any different.”

Octavia simply shrugged at her brother, plucking a grape from the platter on the table and popping it in her mouth.

“Why have you got her locked away down there? Is she your prisoner?”

Bellamy’s eyes narrowed slightly at the accusation, “You know she is not.”

“Well that is not how it appears to me. Are you forcing her to marry you big brother?”

A bolt of anger had Bellamy on his feet, his hands slamming down on the table in front of him, “If anyone is being forced into this marriage it is me. I have no sympathy for the girl who is about to gain the queenship from this arrangement while I gain essentially nothing in return.”

Octavia didn’t even bat an eyelash at her brothers sudden mood change, remaining reclined in her seat across from him, plucking another grape from the platter she had specially requested.

“That’s very self-centred of you.”

“Octavia-“

“I’m just saying that you are really only making things harder for yourself by treating her like this, Bell. This marriage is happening whether you want it too or not, meaning you are going to be spending the rest of your life with her, for better or worse.”

Bellamy frowned sinking back into his previously abandoned chair, fighting the urge to grumble his extreme dislike for the conversation which he felt he had already had numerous times.

“So you should try to figure out how to at least be civil in her presence or perhaps even try to get to know her. You never know, you could even end up liking her.”

Silence stretched between the two as Bellamy thought over his sister’s proposal, hating that it held sound logic. He had received the same advice from Sydney and from many of his advisors, all of which he had wanted to stubbornly ignore, knowing that they all had their own agenda’s that he would be serving were he to do so. Coming from his sister however, Bellamy could at last let himself begin to hear the wisdom of the counsel.

“When did you become so wise, little sister?” Bellamy queried, peering at Octavia curiously, amusement glinting in his eyes.

Octavia shrugged, a smirk playing at her lips, “I’ve always been wise, big brother, you’ve just never been sensible enough to heed my wisdom before now.”

And for the first time since becoming King, Bellamy felt himself smile.


	4. Chapter 4

At this point, Clarke was convinced she would be made to stay in her chambers the entirety of the time leading up to her wedding. Which she had recently learnt would happen after the Kings' coronation that was taking place in only a few days time.

With little to do, Clarke had often found herself staring blankly up at the ceiling, reclined listlessly on her bed, as she allowed her mind to wonder far away from the four walls that entrapped her there. This assumption however, was what made her current state so completely bewildering.

Sitting across from the King at a neatly set dining table, was not how Clarke had expected her evening to proceed.

There was a tense silence that stretched out and sat uncomfortably between the two. Bellamy went about ardently avoiding Clarkes’ eye line choosing to instead focus on his meal, obtusely ignoring his dinner companion. Clarke on the other hand took her time to examine the King, attempting to understand the intentions behind his invitation to dine with him.

“So you are to be crowned soon I hear.” Clarke delved, testing the waters.

“You’ve heard correctly.” Was all she received in response, with barely a glance in her direction.

“Will I be expected to be in attendance?”

“No, not this time.”

Clarke narrowed her eyes at him, “’This time’” she repeated.

“This time.”

There was another lapse of tense silence, the two dinning companions staring tersely at one another, the food on their plates going cold.

“Your sister will be attending no doubt? I was fortunate enough to make her acquaintance recently when she came to visit my mother and I.”

Bellamy’s eyes snapped up to meet hers, both surprised and wary of the chosen subject of conversation. It seemed his sister was a touchy subject.

“She will be, yes.”

“How old is she now?”

“Sixteen.”

“Old enough to be betrothed herself then. Have you begun arrangements for a match for her?” By this point Clarke was less interested in the answer’s to her questions and much more interested in the King’s reactions. “Perhaps, with a foreign monarchy? What better way to form diplomatic ties than through marriage.”

Clarke couldn’t help cringing slightly at the irony and hypocrisy of what she had just proposed. Though it was not proposed for the political advice and more to elicit some form of reaction or retaliation from the King.

The said King’s reaction, though subtle did not disappoint Clarke, who watched on, both fascinated and spiteful as he stiffened slightly and clenched the utensils tightly in his hands. A blaze of protective furry flashed across his features, before he consented to her that he had not yet considered his sister’s marriage, though his tone and expression also consented that he had no intention of doing so anytime soon.

Finding the evening much more informative and even, dare she admit, interesting than she had expected, Clarke felt her mouth twitch slightly, as an almost sadistic glee came over her. Wisely choosing not to push her luck too far, Clarke decided to end the topic of conversation with one last goad, by offering her services for when the match was being made, which the King begrudgingly accepted.

Despite what little she had learned through their brief conversation, Clarke found trying to engage Bellamy in any further conversation impossibly difficult and ridiculously infuriating and not for the first time she wondered why he had even bothered to invite her to dine with him in the first instance.

“So once you are King,” she paused, purposefully waiting for his narrowed gaze to meet hers before adding, “_officially_, what have you planned? What will you do for my people now that you are their King?”

Bellamy’s eyes burned cold furry at her words. Clarke disregarded any apprehension she felt at continuing to provoke the King that evening, not able to keep up the polite, docile façade any longer. It was not in her nature to dance around conflict in any case, nor to pull her punches.

“You must have _some _plans for the kingdom. Something that drove you to invade my country, sacrifice the lives of numerous men on both sides, and then mercilessly kill Jaha to take his crown.” The princess paused to take a sip of wine, her eyes glinting in wicked amusement at the Kings' reddening face.

Clarke knew in that moment how potentially dangerous it was to continue to throw reckless jibes at the King, stirring him further into rage. But she could not stop. Emboldened by her own fury and wounded pride, and driven by the need to know the man who was to rule her kingdom and govern her people, the Princess of Arkadia refused to back down.

Leaning forward, tucking her hand delicately beneath her chin, the Princess continued, “And what will my role be? What will I do for you as Queen?”

Clarke felt vindictive pleasure at getting some form of revenge against the King for herself after all that she had suffered directly or indirectly at his hand, only fuelling her malicious excitement and blinding her to the Kings' threshold.

“How best shall I serve you?” The mock in her voice was overtly plane, and the step too far for her dining companion.

“In my bed, providing me plenty of heirs.”

Dead silence followed. Clarke choked on her shock and rage, her face flushed and her ears burned. Clarke was left muted by his one sentence.

How quickly the tables had turned.

Bellamy, in deviation to the entirety of the evening leading up to that point, looked up at the Princess, fury and wariness gone, replaced instead with a smug smirk, evilly stretched across his face.

“How-how _dare you_!” Clarke seethed.

Bellamy could almost see fire spiting from her mouth and nose and perhaps steam from her ears, not unlike how he imagined the mighty beasts of legend he had been so fond of as a child, had done.

“I _refuse _to let you reduce me to that of a common whore you can simply use and discard at your discretion! I am not someone you can so easily mistreat as such. Need I remind you who I am and why you need to marry me in the first place?”

“It is all you are good for _Princess. _You asked me how you may serve me and I gave you my answer.”

“You would not even have that crown if not for your pledge to marry me! You think you can win the kingdom to your rule without me?! Do not overestimate yourself, _your Grace. _I did not think you had fought so hard to win that crown only to lose it so quickly and so easily.”

The threat hung suspended dangerously in the air between the two, neither willing to back down.

Up until that point, Clarke had had no real reason to fear the King. Sure, he was a bully and a tyrant, of that she had no doubts, but one that she was confident she could handle.

When the King spoke next however, the complete emptiness of his voice caused the first trickles of true fear to seep down to the Princess’ core, “Is that a threat? Or a promise?”

Clarke felt her mouth go dry. Words, if there were any, died on her tongue.

Clarke couldn’t say anymore. She didn’t want to. Not even simply out of fear for herself and her loved ones should she say the wrong thing, but also because she wasn’t entirely confident she could say one way or the other. And that terrified her.

The Princess had no such inclination to carry out any sort of threat towards the King, in any sort of capacity, of that she was certain. At least she had been, until now. Clarke wasn’t sure precisely what it was that made her doubt this, only that now she did. She felt as though she couldn’t be certain of anything anymore.

Clarke’s self-doubt and confusion only grew and swelled inside of her as she stared blankly back at the King, the beginnings of panic creeping in from the edges of her awareness.

The King narrowed his eyes once again before standing abruptly, abandoning what little was left of his meal and made for the door. Clarke was only vaguely aware of this transpiring, too caught up in her whirlwind thoughts and feelings, to really acknowledge his exit, except for his departing words.

“The guards shall escort you to your chambers, where I expect you will think over and decide whether or not you mean to be a threat to myself and this marriage.” And then as an afterthought he added, “Preferably before we are wed.”

*****

The next few days flew by for Clarke as she toiled in her thoughts and feelings, jumping back and forth between them almost as quickly as one of the dragonflies she used to love watching flit around the pond outside her mothers' home. All she could seem to settle on was the fact that she was very much confused.

All too soon Bellamys' crowning came and went with little incident and as much fanfare as Lady Sydney could arrange. Clarke, true to word, surveyed absent minded from her small rectangular window, that oversaw a small corner of the castle’s courtyard, the day’s festivities from the confines of her room. Her mood soured when she saw many of her friends and acquaintances, that she had known during her fathers’ rein, in attendance and making a show of congratulating their new king on his coronation while enjoying the day’s merriments.

Her thoughts not for the first time turned dark and she caught herself leering down mockingly at those below, imagining, with a hash laugh, how they would react if she were to win the crown from Bellamys' head. Blanching she shook the rebellious thought from her mind, turning away from the scene before her to refocus herself and her thoughts.

She knew logically there was no way she could overthrow Bellamy; both in terms of being capable and being able to commit to such a venture. The Princess knew she had supporters; some for their love of her father and others for their dislike of Bellamy, and rallying them to her cause wouldn’t be altogether impossible, though extremely risky due to her current situation. Having supporters wasn’t Clarkes main concern however, there were many other issues that continued to drown out any spark of revolt in her.

The first being she had no wish for further bloodshed. Her people had already seen too much of it in recent years; too many of her subjects already knew the sharp sting of loss that flourished in conflict. Clarke had no desire to subject her kingdom to any more of this pain so soon, when the wounds from the most recent battle had not yet mended.

The second; she had no need nor want for such a burden that she knew the crown to be. Clarke had spent her whole life learning the consequences of the responsibility, both through her fathers’ rule and most recently during the brief and tragic rein that was Jahas’. If she could Clarke would wash her hands of her royal status, craving instead to free to be able to learn medicine and healing; something that she could perform in order to more directly help her people. Instead she had been instructed to sit, smile and be obedient. She was a token, a prize. That was all it seemed she was good for in this life. Even Bellamy seemed to think so.

Clarke scowled at her last thought, the memory of the previous night’s disastrous exchange brought unwelcome, to the front of her mind. Turning towards her bed, Clarke could not refrain from lashing out, kicking the edge of it and letting out a frustrated grunt, before huffing and dropping down onto the abused object.

On the other hand; Clarke was equally uncertain whether she could wilfully allow herself to marry such an abhorrent man when there was quite possibly a way for her to avoid it.

Clarke honestly did not know which path was best, or in this case least painful. Turning over to bury her face in the pillow, Clarke wished she could forget all her worries. Clarke yearned to be free of it all. But she knew that wishing was pointless in the end, nobody could escape their fate. And this was her lot to bear.

At the end of the day, Clarke would chose according to what was best for her people, no matter what that meant for her in turn. But knowing what was best was half the battle, a battle she was losing.

*****

“What will you do if she chooses to go against you and make a claim for the throne?” Marcus questioned, peering calming at the King across the table.

“I’ll have her and her family executed of course.”

Sydney gave a sharp nod of agreement, “As you should. Honestly, the very idea of her coming against you and reneging on our agreement is insulting.”

No one gave a reply, only Marcus frowned slightly at her words.

“Why are you even still marrying her regardless of whether she intends to act upon it?” Murphy chimed in, “She threatened you did she not? Then she is as good as a traitor and should be sent to the rope.”

“Did she threaten you though? It sounds more akin to something that was said in the heat of the moment.” Marcus disagreed, throwing Murphy reproachful look. “We must not be hasty and draw conclusions from one offhanded comment. She is much too valuable to the stability of your rule should this all have been a misunderstanding. A slip of the tongue.” Marcus turned back to look pointedly at Bellamy, who merely grunted in return.

“In any case, speculation will do us no good. Our wedding is quickly approaching, I will need this investigated thoroughly prior to the event. I will not marry the girl only to have her murder me in my bed.”

“Absolutely not.” Sydney exclaimed, cutting off anyone else who might have spoken up, “I will speak with the ladies I have had placed in her and her mother’s service and have them pay specific attention to anything suspicious and have them report to me directly. Do not worry too much your Grace, I will find the snake out if she is one.”

Not needing to remain for anything further, Bellamy dismissed his company and made his way to retire for the evening.

“I hear you are having marital issues already big brother.”

Whirling around, Bellamy was only mildly surprised to see his sister smirking up at him, too caught up in his own world to have noticed her approach.

“What have you done this time Bell?”

“What have _I _done?” Bellamy frowned, his voice growing in volume with his anger “_I _was the one being threatened, by my own _future wife_, and somehow _I’ve _done something wrong?” Scanning the hallway they were stood in, Bellamy grasped Octavia’s arm and steered her into one of the rooms that lined the hall. “How did you come to that assumption little sister?”

“I know you,” Octavia gave him and exasperated look, “and I have met her.”

The King scoffed, a short harsh laugh filling the room, “Ah yes, so you have. You met her once, for what was it? -_five minutes_\- and you can all of a sudden be completely certain that your _brother _is to blame, not some pampered _princess _you’ve just met.”

Octavia was not put off however, a bored expression donning her features she merely shrugged in reply.

Bellamy’s scowl deepened, “This is absurd. I can not believe you are doubting me at this moment. Besides the fact that you are my sister, I am your King, do not forget that.”

“Yes, you are, but you were my brother first.” Octavia snapped back, “What is happening to you? You never used to be like this. Becoming King has changed you. That is how I know the Princess is not wholly to blame.”

Bellamy could only stare at his sister in shock. They had not seen each other for such a long time, due to his banishment, so logically Bellamy shouldn’t have been so surprised that his little sister had changed so much. And apparently so had he.

“Why are you even defending her? You barely know her?”

“I am not defending _her_, _your Grace_, I am attempting to prevent you from making an error, that will only cost you in the future.”

Eyes flashing with fury, Bellamy turned to glare angrily at the wall.

“Did you even have _any_ intention of getting better acquainted with her? Or were you simply looking for justification to have the wedding annulled all along?”

Bellamys' silence was answer enough and the brief flash of guilt across his face when he turned back to her was all Octavia needed to be certain.

“I suppose I had thought you to be better than that, big brother.”

Octavia sighed while making her way towards the door, glancing back only briefly before pulling it shut behind her.

The newly crowned king slumped down into one of the chairs placed against the wall, sighing heavily into his hands that he scrubbed over his face. How could it be that of all his advisors, his younger sister was the only one capable of getting any sound advice through to him. Bellamy had never felt those long years in banishment, separated from his sister and unable to see her grow into the woman he had seen before him, quite so keenly.

Rolling his shoulders, the King stood once more with a singular destination in mind. He no longer had the energy to deal with anything more that day and so would retire for now and leave his worries for the morrow. It had been a long and tiring day and no doubt the next would be equally so.


	5. Chapter 5 - Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone. So sorry, this chapter took so long to be written and I was seriously struggling with writers block. But I got it written in the end and I also ended up having to split the chapter into two parts. Part 2 should be uploaded soon after this one to make up for the long wait.
> 
> Thanks for reading! I hope it was worth the wait.

It was a perfect day. The weather was unusually warm for the end of autumn, fighting off the coming winter that had begun seeping into the stones of the castle. There was not a cloud in the sky, a slight breeze swept through the golden and orange trees, gently caressing Clarkes’ elegantly crafted wedding dress.

Today was the day that she had dreaded most, and despite all her prayers and wishes Clarke would soon be bound in marriage to the man she loathed most in the world.

“Try to smile some today Clarke. I know you don’t feel it, but at least attempt to look happy. It is your wedding day after all and many people have come to see you.”

“If only for one last day, I will not be untrue to myself and my feelings. He may have won the right to my hand, but he will never truly have me. I hope you can allow me this at least mother.”

Clarke was shocked when Abigail’s face softened and she reached up her hands to cradle her daughters face in her hands. The Dowager Queen allowed a lone tear to trace her cheek as she caressed Clarke’s face gently. For once her mother’s features were not that of a composed former Queen, but instead of a mournful mother about to lose her daughter.

“I love you very dearly my child. I’m afraid you have no idea how much. Be strong Clarke.”

Swallowing down the lump in her throat Clarke blinked away the traitorous tears that had begun to blur her vision.

*****

_“I do not think I am able to go through with this marriage mother.”_

_Abigail sighed in frustration, “Clarke, I will not go over this repetitively with you. You will marry Bellamy, you will become Queen and that is the end of it. It is not a choice Clarke, it is simply fact.”_

_“No, mother, it is a choice. One you’ve made for me. But there is another choice. Another path I can take.”_

_“What are you talking about now Clarke?”_

_“There is another way for me. A way forward that does not include marrying Bellamy.”_

_“I do not know what insipid plans have taken root in your mind and given you this false hope, but you must stop deluding yourself Clarke. The sooner you accept what will happen, what is your destiny the sooner you will be able to make peace with it.”_

_Clarke’s anger flared, “I refuse to just roll over and submit to a fate that will mean a life full of misery and struggle. As Father’s only child - as King Jacob’s only heir - I am within my rights to make my own claim on the throne of Arkadia.”_

_Abigail’s eyes widened dramatically, surprise and small traces of fear stretched across her features._

_“Please mother, I know I can do this, but I need your support and your council.” Breaking slightly, Clarke felt herself begin to plead with her mother, needing her to see sense, “I wish for us to be allies once more, as we have always been. Please mother, you are the last of my family.”_

_“Clarke.” Abigail choked out. _

_“You said so yourself, my father has many supporters and so do we. If we were to rally them behind us and my claim, surely there’s-“_

_“Clarke stop. Stop this at once.”_

_“What? What do you mean ‘stop’? I thought you wanted me to be Queen. This way I truly will be Queen with the full powers and authority of a sovereign.”_

_“Clarke enough. You are being ridiculous. Forget whatever silly plans you’ve conjured, it’s not happening.”_

_As though someone had sucked out all the air from her lungs, Clarke gaped openly at her mother, baffled and once again feeling utterly betrayed and abandoned._

_“I’m ridiculous. _I’m _ridiculous?! What of you mother? Are you not the most ridiculous of us all? You want me to marry a tyrant and brute in order to make me Queen, but you will not even contemplate the possibility that I could be more than just a wife? That I, as the rightful heir to my father’s crown, could be sovereign? I could be Queen of our kingdom, instead of some usurper who grew up elsewhere and knows almost nothing of Arkadia and its people?! What hypocrisy are you deluding yourself with mother?”_

_“You speak as though you want the burden.”_

_“Of course I do not! But I would rather take the title of Queen sovereign and be able to lead and serve my kingdom and my people as my father did, instead of playing at the part and bowing to every small whim of that horrid man.”_

_Despite Clarke’s furious burst of anger, Abigail did not rise to it and instead fixed her daughter with a mournful and almost pitying gaze._

_“I did not mean to imply that that was what I preferred. Of course I hate that you have to marry that man. That I have to give you up to them and to _their_crown.”_

_Clarke suddenly felt as though she had whiplash, as she had as a child once, while horse riding, by how quickly her mother seemed to change her position. _

_“What? I don’t understand. You don’t want me to marry Bellamy? But then why are you forcing me to do just that? If we could only write my father’s supporter’s surely-”_

_“Clarke.” The Dowager Queen stopped short her daughter’s ramblings, “It is not possible. Not at this time.”_

_“I do not understand.”_

_“The kingdom is broken. Ever since your father-“ Clarke had never seen her mother so vulnerable in her entire life, even when her father had passed and they had been tossed aside, left to fend for themselves. Yet at this moment her mother was, crying. “The court is in complete disarray, as it was even during Jaha’s reign, and the people a poor and sick. We cannot count on any sort of uprising to support your claim over Bellamy’s. The Kingdom needs peace, it needs to heal Clarke. The in-fighting at court needs to be contained before the whole Kingdom ends up in ruins.”_

_“And you think Bellamy is the right man for the task? He has lived in exile most his life, what does he know of running a country?”_

_“I do not know if Bellamy is capable. What I do know is that the Kingdom needs stability, now more than, not another war. And Bellamy needs you to ensure that his rule is stable.”_

_Clarke scoffed her disbelief, “If what the kingdom needed was stability and peace mother, than why did you support Bellamy in his conquest to overthrow Jaha and take the throne?”_

_Averting her gaze from her daughter, the Dowager Queen did not give any answer. _

_“You are not making any sense. You say one thing, but you do the opposite. How am I to understand you when you are like this? I cannot, I really cannot.” Clarke did not realise she was crying until she felt a salty tear track its path down her cheek. _

_“When I received word from Bellamy’s allies, weeks before he’d begun his journey to Arkadia, I knew one or another, we would have to take a side on the incoming war.”_

_“So you chose Bellamy? Over Jaha? I thought he was your friend. Father’s friend. Wells was like a brother to me.”_

_“There is a lot you do know not Clarke. Jaha was not good for the Kingdom. He was tearing it apart, and I could not guarantee our safety under his rule.”_

_This was definitely not what Clarke had expected to hear._

_“Our safety? Why would we not be safe with Jaha as King?”_

_Her mother was as tight lipped as ever and it infuriated Clarke to no end. She knew her mother was hiding something but the woman was as stubborn as an ox._

_“What are you not telling me? What is the secret? Why can I not know?” All she ever seemed to be doing was asking questions, that her mother never answered. Or if she did, it would only leave Clarke with more questions in the end._

_“That is quite enough Clarke. I will hear no more of this. I want you to banish those dangerous and selfish thoughts of yours at once. You _will _marry King Bellamy because our families agreed to the betrothal and it is what is best for everyone, including you Clarke.”_

_Once again, Clarke had been shut out and shut down by her controlling mother. “You know I really am beginning to despise you mother.”_

_“If that is what it costs, so be it.”_

*****

It had been a difficult and bitter truth to accept and even more difficult a situation to rectify once she came to terms with her situation and the threat she had unwittingly and haphazardly given to her future husband. The very person that had the power to execute herself and her mother with very little effort.

Clarke’s brow creased as she tried to force herself to forget what she had been made endure to regain what little trust she had had with Bellamy and those loyal to him prior to that disastrous dinner. Swallowing back the lump in her throat that threatened to overwhelm her once more, she resisted the urge to glance down and place a hand over the result of her hard earned penance.

*****

_“Who are you to be demanding an audience with the King? Have you no sense you, insolent girl? Have you no mind to speak of?” Lady Sydney’s shrill voice was not the one she had expected to hear first thing upon the King’s entrance into the small chamber she had been made to wait in._

_Ignoring the haughty woman at his side, Clarke fixed her gaze on the King who wore a guarded expression. “I have come to you with my answer.”_

_“Your… answer.”_

_“From our dinner.”_

_Glancing between the two of them Lady Sydney was able to make to connection, “You mean whether you shall challenge his Grace for the throne?” She scoffed, sneering viciously down at the girl, “Yes I should very much like to hear what you have to say.”_

_“I-“ Clarke swallowed harshly, the words were heavy and thick on her tongue making it difficult to speak. “I wish to apologize for my reckless words that evening. I never meant you any threat. They were merely said in the heat of conversation. I have no plans nor have I ever had any, to do you any harm Your Grace.”_

_There was a prolonged pause of tense silence, to the point that Clarke felt the urge to fidget as the King’s eyes kept her stunned, stood still in place. _

_“Is that the best you can do?” Diana looked thoroughly amused, “Well then I think we shall elect to have you and your mother executed instead.” Bellamy stood then without any word, moving as though the matter was decided, leaving Clarke shot through with dread._

_“No! Wait! You can’t do that!” Bellamy’s dead-eyed stare seemed to refocus her scattered and frantic thoughts, “I mean, you still need me. For your rule.”_

_“There are other ways to secure my rein and I would rather not have it end so early in exchange for the security you would have supplied, once you had me murdered in my bed. You’re not that valuable.”_

_Panic seized Clarke’s lungs, making it hard to breath, “Please! I didn’t- I don’t-… tell me what I must do to regain your trust. I’ll do it. Please.”_

_Bellamy paused then, turning once again to face the girl in front of him, desperation plain in her expression, and he frowned slightly, a flash of something alight in his eyes, before they were hardened once again._

_It was Diana who spoke then, “There is nothing more you could offer us girl. Your purpose was to secure Bellamy’s rein and ensure his lineage would continue. There are many other princesses however, that are able serve that same purpose and who are less likely to pose any sort of threat to his Grace.”_

_Any hope Clarke had left was quickly extinguished, and she felt herself begin to drown in her own helplessness and guilt._

_“However…” Clarke’s hope sparked. Diana sighed, looking to Bellamy, “As you did pledge you would marry the princess upon your claiming the throne, it would not do well to have you break such a promise so early into your rein.”_

_What could have been a restrained snarl arose from Bellamy in response._

_“Very well. You want to prove your allegiance to us, we shall very happily accept you back as Bellamy’s betrothed and as the future Queen of Arkadia.”_

_Bellamy snapped his head towards the lady, expression filled with fury, contrasting the relief that flooded his betrotheds’, “Diana!”_

_“Now, now, Bellamy allow me to finish.” The lady quietened the King, “Since we are unable to take you at your word we will need you to provide us with significant proof of your allegiance to us.”_

_“I understand.”_

_“Very well. We shall have you married in a secret ceremony here in the castle. No one else will know of this besides the three of us in this room, that includes your mother, Princess.”_

_Stone-faced Clarke nodded her agreement, not sure of what Diana had planned._

_“We will then hold a public ceremony only once you have conceived. A child is the most assured way of tying you to us and securing Bellamy’s rein and legacy. And I should think you will be too much occupied with your child to be spending your time scheming to usurp the throne and raise armies.”_

_Clarke frowned in confusion, “But why the secret ceremony? If we are to be married anyway-“_

_ “We will need to make sure you are capable of conceiving before we publicly celebrate the union.”_

_Understanding dawned on Clarke, “And if I cannot conceive?”_

_“Then you are of no use to us, are you?”_

_Clarke’s veins turned to ice, her expression going blank, her eyes dulled._

_“What are you implying exactly Diana?” Bellamy’s own eyes were narrowed on the older woman. This had obviously not been discussed prior to their meeting._

_“Only that we make sure she is fertile and able to perform her duty as your wife and Queen.”_

_A flash of alarm crossed Bellamy’s features. “You mean-”_

_“Yes your Grace I do.” And with a smirk she turned her cold gaze to the horrified girl, “That is of course, if you were quite serious in wanting to earn back our trust, Princess Clarke.”_

_This was just cruel. What else could she do? What could she say? Clarke had been thoroughly backed into a corner. She had no power here._

_The two were staring at the princess with varying expressions, but all she could do was nod her head completely numb, dooming herself to what she knew to be a wretched future. _

*****

The ceremony had been quick and to the point. Utterly bland considering it was a royal wedding.

Clarke spoke when the priest prompted, but otherwise she tried to tune out most of what was happening. Allowing her mind to wonder back to a happier time, before her father had died, in order to keep herself standing tall through it all.

True to her word Diana was the only witness to the ceremony which, Clarke realised would make it all the more easier to deny it ever took place should Clarke not fall pregnant and their arrangement fall through. Strangely enough it had been a beautiful day then as well.

*****

_Bellamy was tense, that much she could tell. All throughout their dinner, he refused to look at her, pouring most of his attention to his wine goblet. Clarke similarly found herself rather parched that evening and between the two of them finished almost three whole jugs of the liquid._

_All too soon dinner was over and she knew what was to come next. Growing up Clarke had always accepted that she would someday get married and she had had some idea of what the wedding night usually pertained to. All the same, Clarke was stiff with fear and dread. _

_She had hoped that when the day had come she would share her first night with someone she cared for. Or at least cared for her._

_Swallowing back her anxiety Clarke was determined to take Bellamy’s lead. She would not do anymore than was required of her._

_As she waited tense with anticipation, watching her new husband from the corner of her eye sitting stock still glaring down at the bare table below him. She was startled when he moved quickly to stand, turning and marching through the doors that separated his private dining room and bedroom._

_Thoroughly confused, Clarke hesitantly made to follow him pausing briefly at the door before squaring her shoulders and pushing past them into his rooms. What met her only confused her more._

_Already having undressed, his clothes strewn across the room, Bellamy already was tucked up in bed. He hadn’t waited for her. No he wasn’t waiting for her._

_Approaching the bed uncertainly Clarke only took off her shoes and most of her jewellery, placing them neatly and quietly on the table near side the bed and the gently pushed herself up onto the mattress. Bellamy did not shift nor seem to even acknowledge her as she arranged herself on the very edge of the bed, lying decidedly on top of the sheets that Bellamy lay beneath._

_Then an awkward stretch of silence filled the room, doing nothing to allow Clarke to relax into some sort of sleep, instead she lay hyper aware of the body on the other side of the bed and every shift of the mattress and every slow breath._

_Despite this Clarke found herself gradually beginning to drift off, her guard lowering the longer Bellamy lay unmoving._

_“This was not my idea.” Clarke was wide awake again, her heart beating fast and loud at the sound of Bellamy’s voice._

_Completely rattled Clarke didn’t know whether she should respond or pretend to sleep. “What wasn’t your idea?”_

_“This- this arrangement Diana came up with.” Clarke had no words for that, waiting patiently for anything more he would say, “I just thought you should know. I didn’t want it.”_

_Anger flared in Clarke at that reminded of the alternative, “No, you would have rather I lose my head, then marry me at all.”_

_“That’s not-“ Bellamy paused, “Never mind what it is I would have wanted, this is what has happened, there is nothing to be done about it.”_

_“I thought a King could do whatever he wanted.” Clarke mocked._

_For a while Clarke thought that was then end of the conversation and she began to relax slightly, letting her eyes droop when she heard Bellamy’s voice again, softer than before, “Perhaps that’s just me.”_

To Be Continued


	6. Chapter 6 - Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is Part 2 as promised. Hope you enjoy the chapter!

There were hundreds of people gathering for the royal wedding, travelling from far and wide to be among those granted the honour of witnessing the union and the rise of the new monarchy of Arkadia. There were Lords and Ladies from all across the kingdom, diplomats and foreign royals were also in attendance, some of whom Clarke had known growing up, others complete were strangers.

The entire day was a complete charade. Politics, she had deducted, was as much about fiction as it was about fact.

Watching from the entrance of the cathedral, preparing to begin her long walk down the aisle, Clarke was overwhelmed by her conflicting emotions and was only brought out of her thoughts when a flash of gorgeous brown hair caught her eye and Clarke craned her neck to try and glimpse what she hoped was a familiar and comforting face.

The figure evaded her sight however and all too soon Clarke was being ushered down the long stretching aisle towards the King, her heavy train sweeping the ground, pulling against her almost in protest of the whole affair.

Aware of the numerous eyes on her Clarke kept her gaze forward. Not looking to her husband at the end of the long aisle however, instead up at the stain glass window that glowed in the sunlight, appearing almost ethereal. 

It was enough to calm Clarke and keep her steadily placing one foot in front of the other, her hands that had been quivering stilled at her sides, her heartbeat steadying. She knew she could do this. She had come so far already.

*****

_It had been a week since they were married. An entire week and he had not touched her. At first Clarke was relieved by his determination to keep as far away from her as possible but now she was over it. Aware that the deal she had brokered with Diana hinged on her falling pregnant in exchange for keeping her head, Clarke was beginning to feel the fringes of panic arise in her mind._

_Quite frankly Clarke was much more inclined to remaining alive for as long as she could, and she would not allow a petty King to stop her from fulfilling her side of the deal. _

_Clarke was left silently fuming throughout their evening dinner as Bellamy continued to ignore her, following their nightly routine without thought to the girl opposite him whose hands were white from the tight grip she held on her silverware. Unwilling to release her anger just yet, Clarke instead focused on burning holes into the King, waiting until they had both finished their meal and following him into the bedroom._

_Still she waited. Waited to be sure it would be another night like the last, when he silently slipped into bed and rolled onto his side facing away from her._

_Marching over to his side of the bed, Clarke angrily grabbed hold of the sheet he had pulled over himself and ripped it from his person and pulling it sharply to the ground at her feet. _

_Snapping his eyes open Bellamy sat up slowly, a glare beginning to form in his gaze as he took in the sight of the fuming princess for the first time that evening._

_“If you wanted more of the sheets, you could have just asked Princess.”_

_Completely unbelieving, Clarke let out a sharp harsh laugh, “You know, I was aware that you hated me, but isn’t this just a bit much even for you?”_

_“What are you talking about Princess?”_

_“I understand you wanting me dead, you have not been subtle in your disregard for my wellbeing, but I thought even you wouldn’t be quite so vindictive.”_

_“I must confess I have no idea where this is coming from. If you are going to accuse me of such a character flaw I will at least require to know of its origins.”_

_“If you were going to have me killed anyway, you should have gotten on with it already. Instead you drag it out and use a completely insulting excuse to blame me for my own death instead.” Laughing her short humourless laugh Clarke turned away from the King, “You know I had at least hoped that the man I was forced to marry would in the least resemble a human being. You really are a monster.”_

_“Enough!” Bellamy was quick to anger then grabbing her by her arm and swinging her around to face him, “You will hold your tongue girl, I am still your husband no matter what form I take.”_

_“What does it matter. I am dead in any case. I shall at least die speaking my mind.”_

_“What is this about you dying?”_

_“Do not pretend to be ignorant Bellamy. If you are going to have me killed at least have to decency to it say to my face.”_

_Bellamy narrowed his eyes, examining her carefully, before releasing his hold on her arm with a bit more force than was necessary. “For someone who does not know me at all, you claim to know my thoughts and intentions to the point of accusing me without proof of any of it.”_

_“Your actions are proof enough.”_

_“And what have my actions been that you think I am being so cruel as to kill you later.”_

_ Gritting her teeth, Clarkes jaw clenched, unwilling to form the words._

_“Ah, because I will not touch you?”_

_Clarke’s glare burned with her fury, “I doubt Lady Sydney will care and quite gladly hand me my sentence once she thinks I cannot give you an heir.”_

_“You seem awfully keen to jump into bed with someone you so despise. I thought you would prefer death to that much crueller fate.”_

_“Perhaps, but beggars cannot be choosers, and as I have been made as such by your Grace I have made my peace with that cruel fate. At least I had, before I realised that sparing my life had never been an option.”_

_“You never learn do you? Running your mouth off at me is the reason we are in this position in the first place.”_

_“As if you care. Just kill me and get it over with. Stop toying with me.”_

_“I’m not toying with you Princess, I never was. Whether you believe me or, I do not like the idea of being forced to bed you even if it is the only way to secure my crown. Do you realise how weak that makes me feel? I am King according to my marriage to you and the birth of our child. I cannot even be King on my own merit.” Bellamy was pacing now, “So yes, I hate you Princess. I despise that you are the only way I can ensure my throne and my rein and I hate that I have no other choice in the matter and now I have to sleep with you or have you killed. Did you expect me to have been relieved?”_

_“If you hate the idea of marrying so much then why do you not just execute me? Lady Sydney has provided you the perfect escape route. What‘s stopping you?”_

_“There’s no one else.”_

_“What?”_

_“No one else can authenticate my claim like you can. You were my only option the moment I made that pledge to marry you before my campaign.”_

_Clarke frowned, “But Diana said-“_

_“She lied.”_

_Clarke was more confused than ever, “Then why will you not-“_

_“Because I am not a puppet!” Bellamy exploded, “I will not jump at every command Diana gives me. I am King and if nothing else I will chose when I sleep with my wife, not her.”_

_“All the same, we will not be officially married if I cannot give you an heir. Diana will see to it.” Sighing Clarke stepped closer, “It was bound to happen eventually Bellamy, even you cannot put this off forever and the sooner we get it over with the sooner we can move on and then avoid each other for the rest of our marriage.”_

_It was small but Clarke was almost convinced she had seen a small smile curl at the edges of Bellamy’s stern mouth._

_“Well I suppose there is at least one thing we can agree on.”_

*****

Although the threat to her future loomed over her like a knife hovering above her heart, causing Clarke more stress than she would admit too, it hadn’t taken long at all for Clarke to fall pregnant. Which had Clarke similarly relieved, grateful for small mercies, as well as sickened by the finality and reality of it all.

She kept the news to herself only a day, letting the knowledge wash over her and settle, like heavy chains locking into place across her body, before revealing the news to Bellamy and Diana both. Bellamy’s surprise at the announcement quickly morphed into an expression of pure elation, which only triggered Clarke’s own surprise. This having been her first time ever seeing the man with any expression besides, angry, brooding and grumpy.

Diana’s expression was harder to read however. She had all the appearance of pleasure at the news, but it was calculated and detached which had Clarke even more warry of the woman.

As agreed, their public wedding ceremony was quickly organised, invitations sent out and clothes designed and sown. Diana made sure not a thing was left unattended too. The official wedding between Bellamy and herself would be a spectacle, one for the history books. Aside from the ceremony itself, there would also be a celebration for the people, food, entertainment and dancing all for the happy event that was her marriage.

The people of Arkadia she knew would be overjoyed at the new. It would give them a day off, a day to celebrate and be happy. Her wedding would be a day for them to forget all their pain and misfortunes if only for one day and for this she was at least grateful.

The Dowager Queen Abigail was pleased at the announcement of the wedding, stating that it had been put off long enough, her growing unpleasantness lessening in the days coming up to the wedding. Her only real complaint was her lack of influence and involvement in the planning of the day, or even in the designing of Clarkes’ dress.

_“It’s your wedding day Clarke. Your one and only. How can they not allow me any impute on my only daughters big day?”_

_Clarke could only spare her mother a wry smile, nodding in false sympathy as she knew in truth this would be her second wedding, even if it was to the same man. Not that her mother could ever know. _

Octavia, it seemed was the most joyful and excited for the impending wedding, spending much of her time with Clarke, wanting to discuss any and everything about the event and the dress she had assured Clarke, she would look stunning in once complete.

Even Bellamy seemed slightly less intolerable and hostile towards her, though that may have just been the fact that she was currently carrying his heir.

All things aside, it was Clarke herself that appeared to be the least changed by the events. Her indifference to the wedding was something she had expected seeing as she was technically already married to the man and she spent most of her free time trying not to think too much on the child she was carrying.

She was resigned she realised. Resigned to her future at Bellamy’s side, playing the part of a diligent wife and graceful Queen. She would fall into the place she had been resisting and she would do what she must.

She would play their games and dance to whatever tune they played, but that did not mean she had given up. She would let them believe they had won and that she had given into them all the while she would be patient.

Upon discovering her right to officially marry the King and take her place as Queen, Clarke promised herself that this would not mean the end for her. She had lost the battle but the war had barely begun.

All that she had been forced to endure and all things yet to come, would become her armour and weapons that she would turn on her enemies. She was nothing if not a diligent student and she had before her some of the best teachers.

She would be patient, hidden, and when the time came, she would have them all wishing they had killed her when they had the chance.

Upon taking her place next to her husband at the alter Clarke paused before kneeling as the priest directed, caught in a trance, causing Bellamy to glance warily in her direction. This would be her last show of public defiance she knew but she could not help herself.

Taking a breath Clarke uttered the words that her mother would tell her time and again as a child. Words that took on a whole new meaning now she was stood where she was, before succumbing and kneeling down to allow the ceremony to commence.

“All good things to those who wait.”


	7. Chapter 7

Walking the gardens surrounding the castle, Clarke allowed herself a moment to relax. It had been a long and exhausting day that had encompassed a lot of sitting prettily and smiling politely at her husbands’ side. There had been many Lords, royals and diplomats that had wanted to congratulate her on her nuptials and then attempt to cosy up to her husband, offering gifts and messages of good will from their province or country. Once the speeches and toasts were over and the food on the large dining tables consumed and cleared, Clarke felt she had played her part for the day and snuck out of the hall at her earliest opportunity.

With no destination in mind, Clarke allowed herself to follow the invisible path that took her deeper into the garden and further from the castle and the distant noise of festivities. Taking her time to caress the plants and gaze admiringly at the array of flowers and shrubbery, Clarke felt her mind slowly clear and her spirits rise.

The familiar surroundings brought back so many wonderful memories of when she had played in the very same gardens as a child. Those memories though, were now tainted with sadness and longing. Clarke could never go back to those times.

Caught up in her reminiscing, Clarke had not been aware that she was not alone in the gardens when two hands came around from behind, blinding her. Clarke jumped, panic surging, when a familiar voice asked a very familiar question, “Guess who?”

Relief overwhelmed Clarke, to the point she felt boneless, sagging briefly before a grin consumed her features. Knowing exactly who it was, Clarke twisted around, pulling the hands down from where they had covered her eyes, to stare in shocked happiness at her best friend.

“Raven! What are you doing here?”

Raven laughed openly at the Princess’s shocked expression, “That’s not how you’re supposed to play Clarke. I could have sworn I’d taught this to you a hundred times already; you are supposed to guess who it is before you turn around, not after you have seen my face. It is considered cheating.”

“Oh come on Raven,” Clarke rolled her eyes at her jibe, “I thought it was you I saw in the Cathedral earlier! How are you here? I thought you had left for the countryside in the north to live with your uncle Sinclair.”

Taking Clarke’s arm and tucking it into her own, Raven steered her friend down the pathway between two neatly trimmed hedges. “Well I could not very well miss my best friends’ wedding day. I’m honesty offended I did not receive a personal invite.”

Her words were light, teasing, but they held a question in them, one she knew Raven was smart enough not to vocalise.

“I know, I am sorry. I never meant to neglect you. There has just been a lot happening.”

Just as she had always been able to, Raven read her friend as easily as an open book. They would discuss everything when they were safe from any possible prying ears and eyes.

“Never you mind. I understand as the wife of the King you have a very busy schedule. I suppose I shall forgive you this once seeing as you are new to the role and all.” The teasing glint was back in her eyes.

Clarke grinned toothily back at her friend as they both giggled.

“You looked stunning today by the way. If you weren’t quite so obviously attached, and to the King no less, I wouldn’t be surprised if you had received numerous offers for your hand today.”

“Oh stop teasing. Where are your offers, if you think there are so many men single enough to give them. I’m sure you have turned many heads today yourself.”

“Nonsense.” Raven brushed Clarke off as she always did when the topic arose, “I am much too intimidating to allow any of those weak willed men to speak two words to me, much less an offer of marriage.”

“You never did forgive that stable boy for saying that to you when we were younger did you?”

Raven let out a melancholy sigh, “And you never let me forget it either. This is both the best and the worst thing about knowing someone your whole life. They remember everything you forget, especially things you would rather be forgotten.”

“What else am I supposed to laugh at if not the memory of that poor boy getting a face full of horse manure for his trouble.” Clarke retorted, causing them both to burst out in fits of laughter at the memory, “You never could take criticism well.”

“No, neither could you if my memory serves as well as yours. Wells was always the one having to step in and clean up after us all the time. We really did give him a lot of grief, didn’t we.”

The tone sobered at the mention of their deceased friend, “He liked doing it though I think. He always was good at looking after everyone around him.”

_Too bad he wasn’t as good at looking after himself. _

The words were left unsaid, hanging in the air between them.

“You know I told myself, I would never come back to the Capital after what happened to him and yet here I am and it has barely even been a year since it happened.”

Clarke frowned slightly at her words, “Why _are _you here Raven?”

Laughing softly Raven turned to Clarke, “I told you already. I came for your wedding.“

“I know that, but why are you _really _here?”

Raven glanced over at her friend, another of her teasing grins already replacing her sombre expression, a witty line on the tip of her tongue but she froze when she saw Clarke’s serious and concern filled eyes. Raven decided to at last drop her teasing tone. “Truthfully, I was brought here by the King.”

“The King?!” Clarke exclaimed in alarm, before she collected herself, sparing a quick glance around for any possible eavesdroppers, and in a quieter voice murmured, “Why does the King want you here? What is he planning exactly?”

“I wasn’t lying before. I really am here for your wedding. My uncle received the invites weeks ago and we both arrived late yesterday afternoon. I will just not be returning with him.”

“What? Why would you not?”

“The King has requested that I stay and be in your service as one of your ladies in waiting.”

Clarke frowned, “Why would he do that? I already have ladies in waiting. Though the lot of them are a gaggle of mindless minions for Diana to use to spy on me and my mother.”

Her friend merely shrugged in response, “Perhaps that is the reason? Maybe he wants you to have someone by your side you can trust. I’ll be honest, I was not expecting the offer when I received the letter shortly after the invitations, but I accepted it all the same. I know you must be quite alone here in the castle. I couldn’t very well, on my own conscious and pride as your best friend abandon you a second time in a year.”

“No, I’m glad of the news, very much so. I just don’t understand it. It doesn’t make sense to me what his intentions might be.”

“Perhaps, he is simply attempting to gain some good will with you early in your marriage.”

Clarke’s frown deepened, “Somehow I find that hard to believe.”

“Well whatever the case, I am here to stay so you had best get used to seeing my face a lot more often.”

Successfully shaking Clarke from her wondering thoughts, she turned to beam once again at her brunette friend, “I do not think that will be too much of a trial for me to undertake.”

Tugging Clarke forward once more and turning her gently towards the pathway the led to the small pond they had frequented as children, Raven reengaged her friend in much more lively conversation.

“Come on then, catch me up on everything that has happened since I left. I know we have exchanged a few letters here and there, and I loved reading them but it’s not the same.”

“Where do I even begin.”

*****

Bellamy was exhausted. Not that this was uncommon to his daily existence now, but this day in particular seemed to sap his energy more efficiently than any dismal meeting with his council and advisors could.

“Felicitations to you on your wedding day your Grace.” A pompous man with a large feather in his hat, bowed deeply to Bellamy, flourishing his hands in a way that made Bellamy think he was used to performing for royalty. “I have brought with me a gift from my Lord in congratulations for your blessed union to the Princess.”

A man servant, carrying a well-crafted wooden box, embellished with all sorts of fabrics, metals and jewels that attested to its value, stepped forward and presented to gift to the King.

Motioning for one of his own men to step forth and receive the gift, Bellamy nodded to the man before him. “My thanks, to your Lord. The gift is well received. I hope you shall enjoy the rest of the banquet.” The words were dead on his tongue, repeated to the point he no longer actively formed the words in his mind.

With a final bow of respect, the wearer of the feathered hat, stepped out of the Kings company and seamlessly remerged with the crowd in the large hall.

Suppressing a yawn, the young King watched with tired eyes as his many guests ate, drank, danced and chatted gaily with each other, all seemingly many times more thrilled by his marriage than he was himself. Not that that said much. Still it amused Bellamy as well as mildly annoyed him. The latter even more so since his lovely bride had disappeared on him not even a half hour ago.

“Your Grace,” Diana made her way out of the bustling crowd with Marcus at her side.

“Lady Sydney.” Bellamy acknowledged, inclining his head slightly to his new company, “Lord Kane. How has your evening been?”

“Very well your Grace.”

“May I offer you some more wine, you Grace?” Lady Sydney stepped forward, taking up one of the wine jugs and refilling his glass. Before taking a step back the Lady whispered, “You look weary your Grace, it is not wise to show such weakness in front of so many potential allies and enemies.”

Narrowing his eyes at the woman, Bellamy held back a snarl that was pulling at his lips.

“Nonsense Lady Sydney, Bellamy is doing just fine.” Lord Kane stated as he stepped up beside him, “The festivities will not last much longer your Grace. There a only few left yet to offer you their greetings and their gifts.”

“Yes, I believe we should be quite pleased by the turn out. Very few have neglected to attend the ceremony and those that have not have sent emissaries on their behalf.”

“Quite so, Diana. I have also noticed quite a few foreign dignitaries in attendance which is very encouraging. It is necessary that you have foreign acknowledgment of your kingship as well as domestic and I believe, if today is anything to go by, you have achieved that very well.”

Nodding thoughtfully Bellamy took another glance about the room at his many guests, narrowing his eyes when he noticed one obvious absence.

“I have not seen any representative from the Coalition yet today. Did they not receive our invitation?”

Diana’s face hardened, “No your Grace. We elected to leave them off the invitation list. It is not advisable to invite those savages into our kingdom.”

“Indeed not.” Came a new voice.

Turning to face the new comer, Diana’s face stretched into an unnatural smile, “Lord Emerson. What a pleasure it is to see you here this evening. I hope you are enjoying the festivities?”

“Thank you, Lady Sydney, that I am. It is good to see you also, Lord Kane.”

“Lord Emerson.” Came Marcus’ surprisingly cold response, his posture significantly stiffened in the other Lords’ presence.

Thoroughly intrigued by his two advisors curious reactions to the man named Emerson, Bellamy waited patiently for an introduction, “My apologies your Grace,” Diana turned to him at last, Marcus still staring the man down with an ice cold gaze, “May I introduce, Lord Carl Emerson of Mount Weather.”

“It is an honour your Grace, to meet you at last. May I offer you my congratulations on behalf of King Wallace, on your marriage to Princess Clarke.” Glancing briefly at the empty seat beside the King, there was a flash of cold amusement in his eyes, before he turned them back to the King, “I had hoped to offer them also to the bride herself, however it seems she is absent this evening. How unfortunate.”

Narrowing his eyes at the Lord before him, Bellamy felt the hair on the back of his neck begin to stand on end. For some reason Bellamy did not feel like he could trust a word out of this man’s mouth.

During his banishment when he had had little to rely on besides himself, Bellamy had gotten quite good at reading people. Who was trust worthy, who would to betray him for his bounty and who was likely to steal the clothes off his back. It had become a skill that had kept him alive and out of Jaha’s bloodied hands. There were very few people he could not read, the Princess being one of the few among them, Emerson however, was not.

And Bellamy could tell, even during the first few moments upon their meeting, Lord Emerson was dangerous.


	8. Chapter 8

The castle was cold. It was the first thing Octavia noticed when she awoke that morning, her knees tucked close to her chest and the blanket pulled tightly under her chin. She wasn’t certain if she had simply been preoccupied with the happenings of the castle or if the weather had taken a sudden change towards winter seemingly overnight.

The next thing Octavia noted as she came more fully into consciousness, was the heavy silence. Though it was early, the sun just beginning its ascent to start the day, there was almost always someone up and about both inside and out of the castle. Unnerved and unable to regain any of the warmth she had felt drifting off the night before, Octavia resolved to begin her day.

Unwilling to wait for her handmaidens, who always insisted on dressing her every morning, Octavia was quick to go about her morning rituals, accepting of the scolding looks she would receive from them later in the day. Rolling her eyes to herself, Octavia had had to learn to choose her battles when it came to certain customs and rules held by the royal family and the tenants of the place she now called home, allowing herself to be dressed as though she were still a child, being one of them.

Growing up Octavia had learnt to be self-sufficient and rather independent, having had no servants or handmaidens to do such things for her, Octavia had always dressed and washed herself every day. By the time she was ten Octavia was also capable of most household chores, including cooking and eventually caring for her mother, who’s health had quickly deteriorated in the months before her death.

Even when living with her aunt, who possessed such luxuries that her family had long since lost to time, Octavia retained much of the independence she prided herself on. Now living with her newly crowned brother, Octavia felt no different from the priceless artefacts that decorated the castle. Utterly useless.

Frustration mounting, Octavia rushed her hair, throwing it over her shoulder flippantly before deeming herself decent enough and marching out of her freezing room. With all the distractions of the past few weeks, she had been able to push aside such irritations, blaming moments of annoyance to her simply adjusting to a new home and lifestyle. Now Bellamy’s wedding had concluded with the festivities the evening before, Octavia felt that denying her growing discontent would become more difficult the longer she was forced to bend to the rigid customs and expectations of those around her. She was the King’s sister after all, she had a lot to live up to.

Needing a place to vent her anger and escape the creeping cold, Octavia turn down the hallway that lead to the place that would allow her to do both.

Stepping into the armoury that stood adjacent to the southern courtyard, Octavia immediately felt some of her anger subside. This was the one place she had found that no one thought to look for her. Anyone who didn’t know her very well at least.

Walking the closed space, Octavia gently traced the magnificent pieces of weaponry that lined the shelves and tables, occasionally stopping to pick one up, getting a feel of the hardy metal in her grip. Untrained in their use, Octavia could only attempt to imitate the Lords and soldiers she had watched in secret who trained in the skill, sometimes practising movements or in duels with each other. Not able to join in, or have any lessons in the art made Octavia feel extremely bitter.

It was what Octavia loathed most about being a Lady. Even as a Lady from a minor, forgotten house, she had always been expected to live up to the prestige of her name, even though it was of no real worth to her. Octavia detested her name also.

Time passed her by quickly once she fell absorbed in her secret passion, taking jabs at an invisible opponent, who no doubt had in some way done some unspeakable evil. Making her way through all the weapons stored away in the armoury, Octavia replaced the long bow she had not been able to fully draw, and pick up another sword. Though they were heavy and she often dragged the tip in the dirt when moving, she still loved to take wild swings and hear the swish it made as it cut through open air.

Beaming at the sound of the sword once again, Octavia could not contain her childish giggle of excitement as she prepared to attempt to imitate the movements once again.

“I should have guessed you would be here Lady Octavia.”

Startled, the sword slipped in her grip slightly as it continued its arc she had set it on, no longer in her control. Octavia gasped when the deadly weapon landed just short of the guard that had just strode into the room. “Lincoln!”

“Careful my Lady!” The tall imposing guard scolded, taking up the weapon with ease. “These can be deadly even in the hands of a novice.”

Frowning at the admonishment, Octavia reached forward and abruptly ripped the sword away from the guard, “I am aware of that, thank you.” Though briefly tempted to take another half-hearted swing at the man, Octavia decided to show some restraint and promptly placed the weapon back to its rightful home.

Being discovered in the armoury was not good. Octavia was usually very good at managing her time, but with another glance past the guard and to the brilliant shine of mid-morning sun, Octavia had clearly lost track of it.

Pushing past the guard, none too gently, Octavia moved to hurry out of her hiding place, when she paused, “How did you know where I was?”

Lincoln turned, “This is where you always go.”

“_Always?_ You have been watching me?”

“The King has charged me with your safety my lady.”

Octavia scoffed incredulously, “My safety? What does he think will happen to me while in the castle, surrounded by hundreds of guards?”

“There is precedence, Lady Octavia and besides, you are not always where you are expected to be.” Lincoln stated as he glanced about the armoury. “The King simply wants to be assured of your safety.”

“Well you can tell _my brother _when you report back to him, that I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I am not a child and I shan’t be needing your services. Thank you and good day.” With that said, Octavia pulled her shoulders back, lifted her chin and marched out the door and into the morning light.

It wasn’t until she had walked a few yards that she realised her dismissal had landed on deaf ears. “Why do you continue to follow me? Did you not hear me before? I do not need a personal guard, so you are no longer to behave as such, am I understood?”

“I am afraid I am unable to heed your request my Lady. As my orders have come directly from the King, only he is able to discharge me.”

“Is that right?” Cheeks reddening in anger, Octavia huffed before whirling around to change her course. “Well I will just have to see about that. Where is my brother?”

*****

“Marriage suits you, your Grace.”

Rolling her eyes at the teasing words, Clarke turned to her friend unable to prevent the easy smile that tweaked at the edges of her mouth, “Quit your teasing Raven and you shouldn’t address me as such. I am not ‘your Grace’. I have not yet been crowned.”

“Well it shall happen sooner rather than later now that you have married, so all I am doing is helping you adjust to your new title.”

With a breathy laugh Clarke turned to her friend in mock severity “If all you are going to do is make sport of me while you are here, perhaps I shall have the King send you home.”

“You would not.” Raven easily brushed off, “You are much too fond of me.”

“Am I now?”

Hand to her heart, Raven sighed, “You really are no fun anymore Clarke. I take back what I said before, I preferred you when you were single like me.”

Joining in laughter with her friend, Clarke allowed herself to be carried by the feeling as the two continued their leisurely stroll down the picturesque corridor. It had not been long since Raven had arrived and yet Clark felt herself becoming more and more cheerful as she had begun allowing herself these moments of happiness more and more. It was something like seeing the sun again after months of rain and storms. Raven’s presence had reminded Clarke of simpler times, happier times and it filled her with warmth and hope she had not allowed herself to feel since her fathers’ death.

Their moment of ease was broken by the inclusion of an unwelcome voice, “I concur. I think perhaps I preferred you that way myself, your highness.”

Stilling her steps, Clarke brought their morning walk towards the gardens to a halt when she turned instead to see Lord Murphy slink out from behind a partially closed door, pulling it shut behind him.

“Lord Murphy,” Clarke addressed the man, stiffening her posture, “I had not realised you enjoyed observing others private conversations. A new hobby of yours’ is it?”

“Forgive me, your highness, I did not mean to overhear your private conversation with your maid. The frivolous gossips of women are not something I would usually be inclined to listen in to.” Lord Murphy smiled a mock apology, eyeing the two ladies before him.

Clarke recognised the familiar negative feelings of anger and disgust begin to grow the longer she was in the Lords presence. Over the past few weeks Clarke had been fortunate enough to have not seen or heard from Lord John Murphy since the horrid few days she had spent in his company on her trip to the capital. Having been kept locked away, confined to her rooms Clarke had scarcely seen anyone outside of her mother and ladies in waiting. To that at least she could count at least one small blessing.

In contrast to the Princess however, Raven seemed to be holding her temper and her wit much better, as she stepped toward the Lord, an equally devious smirk gracing her features. “Murphy, what a pleasure it is to see you again. Oh, pardon me, _Lord_ Murphy. My condolences for your grandfather. It has been almost an entire year and you have not changed in the slightest. It is good to know that responsibility and power do not necessarily change a man, for worse, or for better.”

“Lady Reyes. I did not recognise you in all your finery. Tell me, does the north suit you well? I was informed you had moved to live with your uncle Lord Sinclair. The capital will be remiss with you leaving it once again.”

“It suited me very well, Lord Murphy, I quite enjoyed the peace and fresh air, but as you have said the capital has been in neglect of me, so I shall have to give up my residence in the North for the foreseeable future.”

“You are _not_ returning?”

“Lady Reyes is staying here in the capital as one of my Ladies-in-waiting, Lord Murphy.”

“Ah, I see. My congratulations, Lady Reyes. I know you shall serve the future Queen, to the best of your abilities.” Lord Murphy’s smile oozed insincerity, as he gave the Lady a mock bow.

“But of course. Thank you, Lord Murphy.” Raven curtsied slightly, narrowing her eyes at the Lord before righting herself.

“I-“

Whatever was to be said next, was abruptly cut off by the crisp clip of heels on the stone floor as the Kings’ sister hurriedly rounded the corner, followed more calmly by a tall imposing guard.

“Octavia!” her sister-in-law exclaimed.

“Clarke, thank goodness. Do you perhaps know where I can find that brother of mine?”

Taken aback by the flustered state in which Octavia appeared to be in, Clarke cautiously stepped closer to the younger girl, “No, I am afraid I have not seen him for some hours now. Are you quite alright? You seem flushed.”

Brushing aside the Princess’ concern, Octavia would not be deterred, “I am in perfect health, do not worry yourself. I merely require to speak with my brother.”

“He should be meeting with his advisors about now.” Lord Murphy cut in.

“Thank you.” Octavia muttered, sparing her company only a brisk curtsy, before turning and rushing off, determination in her steps.

The guard Clarke now recognised as Lincoln, calmly stepped forward. “Pardon the intrusion, your Grace, I shall take my leave of you now. Lord Murphy. Lady Reyes.”

Upheaving the atmosphere once again with her brief however strong presence, Octavia continued to prove herself to be quite an unpredictable and disarming character, something which Clarke found rather amusing.

“I shan’t keep you from your walk any longer and shall depart from your company as well, your highness. Lady Reyes.” Inclining his head towards the two, Lord Murphy turned and left with little more flare.

“Do you know, I think I am going to enjoy my time in the Capital quite well.” Raven turned to smile at her friend, grasping her arm once more and pulling her gently to continue their walk.

“Well I do not think you will have little to entertain yourself with, if that was your concern.”

“No indeed.”

*****

Turning down the hallway that would lead her to the room Bellamy was supposed to be in, Octavia only slowed her pace when the sound of anxious voices she did not recognise, reached her.

“I do not think we need to be concerned at this stage, your Grace. Lord Emerson has only mentioned negotiating a trade agreement between our kingdoms, I do not see what there is to be wary of in this case.”

“I agree.” Came a new voice, “This is a good sign. We want to have good relations with the bordering kingdoms and this is the perfect opportunity to forge one. Besides, a trade agreement has the potential of bolstering the kingdoms economy.”

“Wallace cannot only be wanting a simple trade agreement.” A third spoke up, “They have not sort any kind of relationship with us since the war. I would be cautious with whatever move you choose to make your Grace, regardless.”

Curious and briefly distracted from her anger, Octavia slowed to an uncertain shuffle, torn between deliberately listening in on the discussion or simply leaving and finding her brother at a later time.

“The war you are referring to,” That was Bellamy, Octavia was sure, “is it the Twenty Years' War?”

“Yes, your Grace.”

“What I do not understand, is the timing of this proposal.” The first speaker spoke up again, “Has Mount Weather not been in isolation for the last fifty years? King Wallace is known to be extremely wary of other kingdoms and protective of his people, if not more than a little paranoid.”

“I do not believe it was him who sent Emerson as an envoy.” This voice Octavia recognised as Marcus Kane.

“What makes you think so?” Bellamy queried.

“Your Grace, if I may,” Lord Kane went on, “King Wallace is old and his health has been rapidly declining in recent years. His power and hold on the court, as a result would be waning.”

Without meaning too, Octavia found herself, now fully engaged in the discussion between her brother and his advisors. Stopped near to the door that separated her from the source of the conversation Octavia held her breath, her anger from mere moments ago now completely forgotten.

“So then who am I negotiating this treaty with, if not King Wallace.”

“I believe it most likely to be his son and heir, Crown Prince Cage, who has taken this initiative, your Grace.” Diana, who had not said anything up until then, finally spoke up.

“Cage Wallace you say.” Bellamy murmured, “I have heard little of him. Besides his father what do we know of him?”

“Not much your Grace. As you know we have had little to no relation with them for half a century now.” Stated the second voice.

“We can assume he does not pertain to the same policies as his father.” Lord Kane decided, “With this move alone, I believe we can assume that Cage Wallace does not want to have his kingdom isolated politically or financially.”

“But whether this is a good sign or not, is yet to be seen.” The third unknown speaker stated.

“Agreed.” Diana affirmed, “We have too little information about what kind of leader Cage is, not to mention what kind of man he is yet. We should proceed with caution your Grace.”

“Lady Octavia.”

At the sound of her name Octavia jumped and in anger burning from her embarrassment turned a heated glare on the guard she had not noticed approach.

“Lincoln.”

“Lady Octavia, I do not think it wise to be eavesdropping on this council meeting. You should wait until the King is able to see you.”

“Yes. I am aware of that.” Octavia huffed, clenching her hands at her side.

With a final glare, Octavia made up her mind and turned away from the door. Her shoulders thrown back in plain stubbornness, Octavia marched back the way she came, deciding to put off her inevitable argument with her brother. At least until after lunch.

It seemed her brother had bigger problems to deal with at the present moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone. Hope you are all well. Sorry for the late update on this chapter. I've had some ongoing issues with my computer and with everything going on, having it fixed has taken a lot longer than I would have liked. But no matter, I am still working on this story and am currently in the middle of writing the next few chapters.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter and thank you for your patience. I hope you can continue to enjoy reading this story.


	9. Chapter 9

“Raven, can you help me with these laces?” Clarke called to her friend, standing before her reflection, twisting awkwardly in an attempt to reach the elusive ties and now earnestly regretting her decision to send her ladies away mere hours before the banquet. “I honestly have not the slightest clue as to what the dressmakers’ were thinking. Perhaps they derive pleasure in knowing it takes us almost half the day alone simply to dress. Suppose that this is all one elaborate joke to them.” Clarke mused to herself, unable to find the correct angle that would allow her to finish dressing herself.

Huffing in annoyance, Clarke gave up and turned to where her friend was quite obviously oblivious to her friends dilemma. “Raven? Are you listening to me?”

When all she received in reply was a distracted, “What was that? Oh yes. Sounds lovely.” Clarke’s curiosity was peaked.

Quietly sneaking up behind her friend, who sat facing away from her, hunched over at a small wooden desk, Clarke attempted to peak down at what it was that had stolen her friends’ attention.

“What fascinating things are you reading that has you ignoring your dearest friend?”

“Hmm? Oh. Uh,” Raven folded the piece of paper, “A letter from my uncle. He asks after my health and yours.”

Narrowing her eyes in suspicion, Clarke was not convinced. Although she had not seen any script of the supposed letter, Clarke knew that a letter from Sinclair was not something that could entrap her friends attention for such a length of time. Just as Raven could read Clarke, Clarke could read her friend just as well. Clarke knew Raven was not telling her the truth.

With quick, light hands, Clarke snatched the piece of parchment out of her friends grasp and danced out of her reach when other girl lurched, with little grace, in an attempt to steal the paper back.

“Clarke! What are you doing? Give me back the letter.”

“What is this? I thought you said it was a letter from Lord Sinclair. This looks like a love letter to me.”

“Clarke.”

“’_To the loveliest Raven’_” Clarke smirked as she skimmed the letters contents, “And whoever could this admirer of yours be, loveliest Raven?”

At last allowing her friend to reclaim her possession, Raven scowled at the Princess, who’s smug expression had yet to waver. “No one of importance. An acquaintance of mine.”

“An acquaintance? Be honest Raven. Would any of the acquaintance’s you or I know be proclaiming their most ardent feelings of admiration and affection through letter?” Clarke gestured loosely in the direction of the offending letter.

With a sigh Raven reclaimed her seat, this time turned away from the desk, “I never explicitly meant to deceive you in this matter, Clarke. I had not even intended for you to find out at all.”

“Why ever not?”

“Because nothing will come of it.”

“Well I do not know about that. What little I saw of your letter, your admirer was very encouraging of his feelings, if not his intentions toward you.” Pausing slightly at a thought, “Unless this is not what you want?”

“It is beside the point really. It could never work.”

Seeing her friend in a rare moment vulnerability that she only ever conveyed when talking about their childhood friend Wells, Clarke was left stunned. Clarke knew whatever it was Raven was not sharing with her was something she wanted to keep to herself for now and Clarke would respect that.

“Well are you going to assist me with these laces or am I going to have to depart for the banquet partially undressed?”

Giving her friend a small smile of gratitude Raven stood, “I could never allow my closest friend to be subject to such ridicule, so assist you I must.”

*****

Clarkes’ face, it seemed to her had completely frozen. The Queen-to-be had been forced to smile pleasantly for so long she no longer felt she would be able to show any other emotion. Chagrined as she was, and in discomfort due to her pregnancy, Clarke was not at all enjoying the Christmas banquet. Watching from behind glassy eyes, Clarke observed the court of Lords and Ladies enjoy the extravagant feast and the beautifully decorated hall as a small acting troupe performed for their amusement.

“Are you feeling alright? You’ve barely touched your plate Clarke.”

Turning to her right, where her mother sat, a look of mild concern about her eyes, Clarkes’ smile did not falter. “I am fine mother. I simply have little appetite at the moment.”

“You should eat, Clarke.” Bellamy interjected from her other side, overhearing the brief interaction between mother and daughter.

“I will.” Clarke assured him, nodding slightly.

Bellamy only frowned at this, watching her closely as she moved a piece of bread across her plate, took a tiny morsel of it and chewed on it slowly. “That is not eating Clarke. Are you certain you are well? You look a little pale. Should I send for the physician?”

“No Bellamy, don’t. I am fine. I am not feeling very hungry at the moment, that is all.”

Instead of accepting her words as they were, Bellamy surprised Clarke when he placed his hand gently over hers and looked at her imploringly.

“You are sure.”

The words that had been automatically prepared at her tongue stalled briefly at the sincerity and intensity of Bellamy’s gaze. “Of course.”

Finally accepting this, Bellamy nodded and proceeded to tend to his own meal and engage with his many guests.

Freed from the intense exchange, Clarke felt her breath ease and her heart steady as she tried to shake off the unusual interaction she had just had with the King. Though they had begun behaving more cordially towards one another in recent days, Bellamy had started to show Clarke brief moments of genuine care and concern for her. More often than not Clarke would reason this behaviour to the heir she carried, but it was becoming harder to draw a distinctive line.

Once again glancing down at her full plate, piled with rich luxurious meats, cheeses and other amenities and cringed. Picking at the same slice of bread, Clarke glanced briefly in the direction of her mother, who she now noticed was still watching her, and was surprised to see a thoughtful if slightly displease expression on her face. Quickly smoothing over her facade, Abigail smiled warmly at her daughter before turning away from her also.

Feeling stifled, Clarke could only continue to sit and smile at the guests, returning conversation where it was offered while picking at her dinner, unable to escape. Her one solace was Raven, who made sure to send encouraging smiles and an occasional giggle or roll of her eyes when her conversational partner was not watching.

Although she could not bring herself to thank the man out right, she was begrudgingly grateful to Bellamy for inviting Raven to stay with her. It was all that kept her sane in these moments.

As the night began to wind down, the feast eaten and the nobles thoroughly entertained, Clarke began to feel some relief in the knowledge of soon being tucked up in bed and free of the lingering gazes. She was exhausted having had to play-act at contentment for such a duration and was only really very grateful that what food she had somehow been able to force into her stomach had not been repelled. Clarke was quite ready for the night to be over.

When Bellamy stood suddenly after a discreet nod from Diana, Clarke was hopeful that this would be his final address and the goodnight she had been waiting patiently for.

“Thank you, everyone, for celebrating Christmas with us this eve. My wife and I hope everyone has thoroughly enjoyed themselves and the entertainment this evening. Now before we wish you all a merry Christmas and a good night, there is an important announcement I wish to make.”

Uncertain of what exactly the announcement was to be, Clarke felt uneasy when Bellamy turned to her and offered his hand. Hesitating for only a moment, Clarke moved to stand beside the King and face the assembly, with mounting trepidation.

“I am thrilled to announce before all of you here this evening that we shall soon be expecting the arrival of an heir.”

The hall that had been silent in the wake of the King now erupted into loud cheers and applause of congratulations and drunken joy.

Clarke however was left standing completely stunned at the unexpected announcement. Her wandering eyes automatically searching out her mother and Raven, most intent on their reactions.

Finding Raven first, Clarke felt a wave of relief wash over her at her friends surprised expression, the beginnings of a knowing smirk and teasing glint in her eye somewhat reassuring. Glancing over to her mother however, she found no such reassurance.

Concealed expertly behind a mask of delight, Clarke saw something colder. Swallowing down the growing need to cry, Clarke turned back to the court and smile joyfully for them all. Nodding respectfully in recognition of their blessings and many wishes of good will, Clarke buried her hurt and her anger until she was out of the public eye.

*****

“I suppose I should congratulate you on your happy news, your highness.”

“Raven.”

“I suppose I was not the only one hiding something from my dearest friend. Though I no longer think I could claim to be your dearest friend anymore since I had to find out about your news alongside everyone else. ” Raven mused, her hurt poorly disguised by her light tone and teasing smirk.

Clarke swallowed down her guilt, casting her eyes down in shame, “I am truly sorry Raven. I had no inclination as to Bellamy’s announcement tonight. We had agreed to stay quiet about the child until the pregnancy was further along. I thought he would come to me before announcing it to everyone.”

“Congratulations, your Grace.” Clarke whirled around at the cold detached voice of the Dowager Queen.

“Mother.”

Abigail remained unswayed by her daughters vulnerable gaze, returning it only with the cool mask she had worn since the news was announced. “I will pray for the health and safety of you and your child.” The Lady curtsied and with a final goodnight, moved passed her daughter as though she were passing by a stranger.

Feeling as though there were a tear in her heart at the pain that now consumed her chest, Clarke took a gulping breath in order to steady herself and will away the tears that were building behind her eyes.

“Oh Clarke.” Turning back to her friend who had now shed her accusatory expression and instead looked at her with bleeding sympathy, “I am sorry about what I said. If you had not even told your mother-“

“I know. It is fine.”

“No it’s not. He really did not tell you about what he was planning?”

“No.”

“Congratulations Clarke!” Octavia sprung forth as if from thin air her excitement about the news palpable to all that saw or heard her. “I am so very happy for you. Are you excited about the child?”

“Octavia.” Clarke attempted a strained smile, “Yes. Thank you. I am excited.”

“I am very excited also.” The younger girl beamed, “And should you need anything, you only need ask. I am to be this child’s aunt after all and I want to do all that I can to help.”

Clarke was able to form a genuine smile at this. “Thank you Octavia. I really appreciate that.”

Octavia’s already wide smile, widened even more, “Well, good evening Clarke. Good evening Lady Reyes.”

“Goodnight Lady Octavia.” Raven returned the girls’ curtsy before she turned to leave, an obvious skip in her step.

“Are you going to be alright? Do you want me to stay with you?” Raven asked her friend, placing a comforting hand on the Princess’ shoulder.

“No, no. I will be alright.”

“If you are sure.”

“I am. I have somewhere I need to be.”

*****

“What was that?” Clarke demanded the moment the door closed behind her in the King’s private chambers, having followed him back from the banquet.

Not even bothering to turn to face her, Bellamy went about preparing for bed, “What was what?”

“Do not play at ignorance with me, Bellamy Blake. I am referring to that announcement you made at the banquet.”

“Yes and what about it.”

“How could you do that without telling me before hand?”

“I do not see what the issue is.” Bellamy stated as he turned to face her, “Did you think we were never going to tell anyone up until the day the child was born? How did you think that was going to work exactly Princess?”

“Of course I knew we would tell people, but I had hoped to have been given the grace to choose to at least tell my mother or Raven first. How could you not even hint to me about your plans tonight?”

“Because my _plans _as you say, did not require your knowledge of them.” Bellamy strode past her to his trunk and pulling it open.

Maybe it was the late hour or the pregnancy, but Clarke’s lip began to tremble slightly as she fought back another wave of tears that pricked at her eyes. Biting down hard on the offending lip, Clarke attempted to rein in her flooding emotions before Bellamy could turn around again to see her moment of vulnerability.

“Of course. How could I forget. I am merely a tool to you. A pretty face to sit beside you and show off to your court of Lords’ and Ladies, while they pander to your ego and your male pride.”

“Must you start this again, Clarke? I am tired and I am in no mood for fighting.” Bellamy continued to ignore his wife as he proceed to undress, placing his shed garments neatly in a pile.

“Nor am I. I do not even know why I bothered coming here. You have made it plain to me on several occasions that you do not value or respect me. I do not know why I thought to expect any different from you now.” Despite Clarke’s best efforts against it, tears had found their way down onto her cheeks, spilling over at a quickening pace that she no longer had any control over.

“And yet you are still here.” The King murmured, finally turning around once again. The sight that met him was not one he had been expecting in the slightest and had him frozen in shock. Bellamy was stunned to see the girl who had always been so strong and proud through everything that had occurred during the last few months, reduced to tears before him. Clarke had stood tall through all the humiliation and cruel circumstances she had been forced to endure and her facade of strength had deceived Bellamy into believing that she was unbreakable.

Wiping furiously at her tears, Clarke glowered at her husband. “What am I too you exactly? Whatever your regard for me I could not care less, but if we are going to be living together and raising our child together than I expect more than this.” Taking a breath the Princess spoke the next words so soft, Bellamy was not sure he heard them correctly, “I do not know why, but I had expected more from you.”

“Princess-“

“No. You have said enough. I am finished with you. Do not bother looking for me. I will not see you.”

With nothing more to be said, Clarke turned on her heel and stormed out of his private chambers, slamming the door shut on her way out.


	10. Chapter 10

Despite the freezing cold that numbed his fingers and bit at his skin Bellamy was glad to be leaving the castle. It had been an uncomfortable past couple of weeks since Clarke had stormed out of his chambers and obstinately avoided and ignored him ever since. Conflict was something Bellamy was well versed in, but Clarke was another matter entirely and so he preceded to allow her childish behaviour, he supposed out of some misplaced irrational guilt he felt towards her. It was irrational, he knew. There was no real reason to feel any remorse for the actions he had taken. He had been entirely within his right as King. But whenever he would argue this to himself, the image of her tear stained face that had been permanently seared into his memory, would burn behind his eyes until he lashed out in some way.

The burning cold of the mid-winter season was nothing compared with the searing fire that burned across his being whenever he saw Clarke. It was a fire fuelled by mutual hatred, mistrust and blame and it was beginning to eat him alive.

The King’s sour mood must not have gone unnoticed as he did not meet nearly as much resistance to his plans to set out on Royal Progress in the middle of winter, though it did not negate all opposition.

“Your Grace, I want you to know that I still do not believe this course of action to be the wisest. It would be best to wait out the season in the castle where there is plenty of wood stocked up for the many fire places and enough food to feed all its residents with some to spare.” Kane stated diplomatically for the hundredth time, glancing over at the younger man he stood beside as they observed the preparations for their departure. “But I know you will not listen to me, even though I also know you agree with my logic and my concerns.”

“Then why bring it up again?” Bellamy queried honestly curious as to his answer.

Letting out a heavy breath, Marcus fixed his thick leather gloves, before lightly slapping a gloved hand on Bellamy’s shoulder, “So I can say I told you so when we inevitably get stranded in the middle of a snowstorm and freeze to death. I will hold you accountable beyond the grave.”

Rolling his eyes Bellamy scoffed, shrugging the hand off his shoulder, “It is a relief to know you have such profound faith in me Lord Kane.”

“But of course I do. I followed you this far, did I not?”

Sharing a final fond smile the Lord moved away and toward his horse and went on instructing the stable boy who was attending.

Glancing around the courtyard Bellamy observed the many packs of furs and food that were being saddled onto horses and loaded onto carriages alike. It would be a smaller party than it might have been come spring, but it was decided that Bellamy would bring along the bare minimum needed so that they would have enough supplies to survive them through the trip.

Shifting his wandering gaze upward, Bellamy scanned the many windows and balconies that surrounded the yard most of which were filled with maids, court officials and other nobles all eager to see the Royal Progress on its way. It wasn’t until Bellamy’s gaze swept across the western side of the yard that he saw her.

Just like she did every time she entered Bellamy’s line of sight, Clarke had him entirely enraptured, unable to look anywhere else. It was another thing that had begun to grind on Bellamy’s nerves. The Princess had never been able to hold his focus for any such a length before that night, so how was it he seemed to be seeking her out in every room and in every hallway. It was utterly absurd and completely infuriating. Nothing had changed about her; she was still the same pretentious spoiled Princess he had met all those months ago. She even looked the same, except perhaps for the slight swell of her stomach that was gradually becoming more and more pronounced. So how was it that she could command his eyes just so, to drink her in from head to toe, frozen on her form until she disappeared from his sight.

The few times Clarke had caught him staring, Bellamy had been met with an expression so hate-filled it made his face burn and his fists clench in furry. But he would not give her the satisfaction and seek her out himself. His maturity was only surpassed by his stubbornness and his indignation towards the Princess’s behaviour that kept him from blowing up at her. As well as the knowledge that it would not be the wisest decision to get into a heated argument with his pregnant wife. He would not be that kind of man.

Despite his resolve to restrain his turbulent emotions, as the weeks wore on Bellamy felt his patience begin to wear thin. Thus the not entirely thought-out decision to set out on a Royal Progress for several weeks during snow-storm season. He was that kind of man.

“The Princess is still not speaking with you I see.” came a voice from behind Bellamy.

Turning away from his view of the Princess, Bellamy moved to face the poorly disguised smirking face of Lord Murphy. “John.”

“I do believe I mentioned hating that name, your Grace.”

“I remember.”

Narrowing his eyes at the King, Murphy could not prevent the flash a smile that stretched across his face before he was able to remould it back into his typical smirk. “Her highness has still not forgiven you then?”

Frowning Bellamy chanced another glance at Clarke, “How do you know about that?”

“Forgive me, your Grace,” Murphy tittered with a mix of mild disbelief and amusement, “I do forget that though you are King you do not know all the workings of the castle.” The King’s expression darkened at the insinuation, “Do not misunderstand me, your Grace. I know this is no fault of your own, but all those who have spent years of their lives within this castle know that the walls have ears. Some even have eyes and mouths.”

Eyes sharpening significantly at the statement, Bellamy cocked his head, “Are you implying that there are spies at court?”

A genuine chuckle erupted from the usually sardonic Lord, surprising them both, “I was not _implying _any such thing. Only that there are no secrets in the castle, much less when it comes to the most recent argument between the King and his wife.”

Mulling over the young mans’ words Bellamy glanced once more around the courtyard in consideration, trying to discern whether Murphy spoke true. Although Bellamy knew he could trust very few of the nobles at court if any at all and that gossip was spread like wildfire among the ladies and maids of the castle, he had not considered that his marital issues, of all things, would be so humiliatingly on display.

Before the King could come up with anything in reply the sight of his younger sister out in the courtyard, wrapped in her winter furs and slowly approaching one of the unattended steads with a case in hand, had him successfully distracted.

“Octavia.” Bellamy called as he neared his sister, tugging on her arm as soon as it was within reach and dragging her toward the entrance that led back into the castle. “What are you doing out here?”

“I am coming with you Bellamy. I have decided.” Octavia declared, wrenching her arm from his grasp.

“No, you have decided nothing of the sort. We already discussed this; you are safer here in the castle with the rest of my guards.”

“No you discussed this. I chose not to adhere to your advice.”

“It wasn’t advice, it was an instruction.” Bellamy moved to pull his sister towards the castle once more, tightening his grip on her arm so she could not so easily escape.

“I do not care what object you wear on your head Bellamy, or what chair you sit on, you cannot _order_ me to do anything.”

“Actually this is exactly what those objects allow me to do. I told you to remain behind and I will not tolerate your blatant disregard of my authority so frivolously.” With a firm jerk of him arm, Bellamy turned his sister toward the castle, “Leave on your own Octavia, before I ask one of my guards to escort you.”

Thinking the matter settled, the King turned around to return to his duty of overseeing the last of the preparations, halting mid-step when a tug on his arm told him his sister was determined to be stubborn as she so often was.

“Bellamy, please. Don’t leave me behind again.”

As if he had been hit with fresh packed snow, Bellamy froze, stunned by her words.

“I have spent my whole life trapped behind stone walls.” Octavia continued in an uncharacteristically vulnerable voice, “You were gone. You got to see a world beyond anything I will ever be able to see and I was left behind with mother. A prisoner.”

“Octavia, you know I was banished. I had not left by choice and my time in banishment was not some pleasant trip abroad. I fought every day to keep my life; to come home, alive to you and to mother. It was a hard life Octavia.”

“And you think being locked away at home was easy? Well it wasn’t. My whole life has only been home, Aunt Indra and here. I know nothing else of the world.”

“You will get to see it Octavia, I promise. Just not now.”

“Now is all I have.”

“You are being dramatic.”

“No I am not. You are being short sighted and naive.” Bellamy scoffed at Octavia’s blunt accusation, suppressing the urge to also roll his eyes. “I am sixteen Bellamy. How long until you sell me off to be married to some pompous Lord or Prince?”

“I could never sell you Octavia you have to know that.”

“But your advisors would and one day there will come an offer you won’t be able to refuse. You are King now Bellamy, I thought you knew what that would entail.”

The King frowned at the change of topic in the argument. “Of course I know what it entails and it doesn’t include bartering you off for a petty trade agreement. You are a Kings sister. _My_ sister. I will never let that happen to you.”

“It happened to Clarke, and she was _born_ a Princess.”

They were verbal attacks that cut straight to his core. At the claim Bellamy found himself unwittingly glancing toward where the Princess had been stood, momentarily forgetting his breath when he was met with her cold blue stare. Although he knew it to be most likely impossible, it seemed as though Clarke knew what it was that they were arguing over; the twitch of her mouth and the beginnings of what Bellamy could only interpret as a smug look grew his suspicion. The dinner they had shared months ago and the comments she had made about Octavia echoed mockingly in his head.

“Please Bellamy.” Octavia pleaded, “I need to do this. I want to see Arkadia; the kingdom I was born in, before I am locked away again.”

Taking a moment to look at his sister, Bellamy frowned, “It could be dangerous you know. You would have to have guards with you at all times.”

“Bellamy I am perfectly capable of looking after myself. I do not need an entire battalion to be guarding my person day and night.”

“You will have at least one guard with you or you can stay at the castle as you were supposed to.”

Taking a deep breath Octavia reluctantly agreed.

“Very well, you may join me on Royal Progress.”

Beaming up at her brother, she hugged him tightly in gratitude. Summoning a horse keeper to where he and his sister were stood, Bellamy pulled away from his sister. “Because I know you will refuse the carriage.” Bellamy smirked down at her and then turned to instruct the man to arrange a mount for his sister.

Hurrying after the horse keeper after passing off her luggage, Octavia spared the King one last bright smile before disappearing into the hustle and bustle of the court yard. Bellamy shifted his gaze slightly toward where he knew Lincoln to be standing in the shadow of the castle wall and after giving a subtle nod, the hulking man turned to follow after the Kings’ sister.

With a heavy sigh, the King of Arkadia watched as a fresh wave of snow began its graceful decent from the ominously grey sky, reaching out to let the first few flakes melt in his dark gloved hand. Breathing in the sharp cold air, Bellamy questioned for the first time since announcing his decision, whether setting out on Progress was the best thing to do. Glancing upward once again, Bellamy felt his doubts melt away as swift as the snowflakes in his hand, at the sight of the now vacant window.

If the Princess was so eager for him to be out of her sight, then he would go as far as he could; travel to the farthest corners of his Kingdom and far beyond the reach of her cold enchanting eyes. When compared to her paralysing presence, the unforgiving winter winds and icy roads seemed exceedingly more inviting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we are! I hope you enjoyed the chapter! I had a few false starts when trying to write this chapter but I got there in the end.
> 
> Stay safe everyone and thank you for reading! xx


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! It has been a while and I apologise. I have been doing a lot of drafting and redrafting of the plot and where I want the story to go and I have had a few brain over-loads as a result, but I was able to get something out in the end. 
> 
> ***I am adding a warning at the beginning of this chapter, more as a precaution. There are references to dark thoughts and feelings and some possibly triggering topics (abortion) that I would like to warn you about, should you prefer to avoid that.***
> 
> Thank you for all your patience and I hope you enjoy the chapter!!

Winter had always been Clarke’s favourite season. She had never been entirely sure why it was the case; perhaps it was the feast’s, the soft furs, or the gentle warmth of the fireplaces. Perhaps it was because when she was younger she had always enjoyed playing in the snow. The soft pure substance that caught in her hair and danced around in the wind and when condensed made for perfect weapons against her two friends, who would on occasion follow her out into the cold.

None of which had brightened her darkened mood however, as the Kings’ announcement of his Royal Progress.

Turning her attention toward the view of the busy courtyard, Clarke’s eyes aimlessly roamed over the assembled crowd. Some moved in haste to finish securing the baggage, others stood by, waiting to see the King off on his travels. There was very little excitement to be had in the recent months, so it did not surprise her that many had gathered to watch the event. Many had in fact even spent days looking forward to it, whispering excitedly in the halls and passage ways. Clarke however could not share in the excitement that energised the castle, holding interest only in the date of the party’s departure. She had almost no interest in anything in recent days.

Staring down at the excited crowd below through unseeing eyes, Clarke felt a chill crawl up her spine and freeze her in place when she saw the King himself drag his sister toward the castle. Whatever argument the siblings seemed to be having, Octavia appeared not to be willing to back down and with very few words, seemingly had the King stunned speechless. Clarke really was very fond of that girl.

Amused by the scene that was the young girl getting the better the of usually arrogant and imposing King, Clarke found it hard to suppress the small smile that pulled at her mouth, when the King’s gaze snapped up to meet hers. It was a jarring moment that stopped Clarke's heart for a beat, and had her feeling as though she had been caught out somehow.

A gentle swirl of mixed emotions began to engulf her being at meeting her husbands’ heavy gaze. Dark eyes, that burned with open vulnerability stared her down from the courtyard, cutting her open and bleeding her of her emotions and forcing them to rise and boil beneath her skin.

Clarke hated that. She hated him. But most of all she hated how he made her feel.

Their locked gaze broke like shattering glass in her mind the moment Bellamy looked away, causing Clarke to recoil from the window until she could see no more of the courtyard below. It wasn’t until her heart beat had properly settled in her chest and her breath came easier that she noticed the crescent-shaped marks on the palms of her hands. A perfect match for her finger nails which had been squeezed so intensely into the flesh of her palms the mild sting of pain it left behind now throbbed rhythmically, grounding Clarke.

“Coward.” Clarke muttered under her breath, not entirely sure whether she was referring to Bellamy or herself.

Embarrassingly shaken by the exchange, Clarke forced herself to calm, taking a deep breath, stepping away from the desk she had almost tripped over in her desire to vanish from his sight. Her already shattered nerves were jolted again at the sound of a voice.

“Your Grace.” Clarke turned, sharply toward the voice.

“What is it, Roma?”

“I have come to inform you that the preparations for the Royal Progress are almost complete. His Grace shall be departing soon.”

“Yes. Thank you Roma,” Clarke paused when the girl did not retreat, “you may go now.”

When the girl still did not move, Clarke restrained a frustrated sigh, “Was there anything else?”

Pausing only a moment longer at the open door, her eyes sweeping between the King’s wife and the window, where the travelling party could be seen ready to depart, the girl frowned before curtsying and exiting the room.

Clarke knew, even without Roma or anyone else speaking so out loud, that she was expected to be seen at the departure of the Royal Progress. It was an expectation. An expectation she, for once had no inclination to live up to.

Resolving to take her mind off of her hateful husband, Clarke stalked out of the room and down the hallway in search of her mother. If anything could distract her from whatever was going on with her at present, it was her mother. Or more specifically arguing with her mother, as she was in no doubt that was where any prolonged meeting with her mother would lead.

Nearing the end of another hallway that tapered off into two seperate hallways at the end, one of which would carry her to her mothers’ assigned chambers, Clarke slowed down briefly as the mumbled noise of voices grew louder.

“… is not the time to be dredging up memories from the past Diana. I have left it behind me, so should you.” Clarke recognised her mother’s voice, cool and controlled.

The next voice Clarke knew to be Diana, if not for her mother’s identifying her then for the condescending tone of her voice, “Our past is what brought us to where we are today. How can I not reminisce with friends when I can?”

“We are not friends Diana. We never were. Perhaps your recollection of the past is dissimilar to my own.”

“Perhaps I prefer to remember our forgotten years as I wish to remember them. Just as you do.”

While unsure of why she felt the need to conceal her presence, Clarke was also unable to move forward to make her presence known, and so was stood uneasily, within ear shot of the two ladies.

“Should you not be preparing to leave on Progress? Surely the preparations are very nearly complete by now. I do not think you would wish to keep the King waiting.”

There was a pause. “No, and I shan’t. I am needing to discuss your care while the King is away with the newly appointed Lord Chancellor of Arkadia, Bishop Pike in any case. I shall bid you farewell then Abigail. I hope that you will think on what we have discussed.”

Holding her breath, Clarke stood stock still, pressed against the cold stone wall, preying Diana would choose another path that did not lead her past the concealed Princess. Once the echoing sound of Diana’s footsteps faded down the other hallway, Clarke was left to feel confused and embarrassed at her own behaviour and reaction to the scene that she had walked in on. Feeling akin to a child for her seemingly unnecessary and cowardly behaviour, Clarke pushed herself off the wall, straightening her posture and smoothing down her heavy skirts and strutted with confidence toward her mother’s chambers. 

Knocking gently on the thick wooden door, Clarke waited for her mother’s response before she cautiously entered the room. “Mother?”

“Clarke?” The Dowager Queen called, unable to disguise her surprise at her daughter’s presence, “Why are you not in the courtyard? I should guess that the King will be soon departing.”

Although the words were not altogether encouraging, her mother’s tone and expression were not entirely unkind or unwelcoming and so Clarke took this as a sign to move further into the chambers. “Yes, I have been informed as such. It should suit me far better by being here than in the courtyard, until the King is long since gone from the castle.”

“Clarke,” Abigail began reproachfully, “It is a part of your duty as wife of the King to partake in seeing the party from the castle. I know you know this.”

“That I do. But my duty has no bearing on my ill feelings toward the King at present and I am inclined to indulge those feelings at this time.”

Resigned Clarke’s mother sighed, “I hope you have told no one else of your feelings on this.”

“Of course I have done no such thing. I am angry, not senseless.”

“I do not think it matters in this case. You have made your thoughts and feelings clear to those who pay any attention to your actions and behaviour.”

“I am aware mother.” Clarke ground out, her ire rising, “And I should not care in any case. Critique my behaviour however you wish, but I abhor that man and I could care less as to who is privy to the fact.”

With another laboured sigh, the Dowager Queen, shifted her focus toward her small writing desk. Attempting to tidy away the remnants of what Clarke assumed was a letter or some other document, the Dowager Queen did not spare her daughter a glance as she muttered, “Very well. You are a married woman now. I hold no sway with your decisions anymore than I hold importance in your life.”

Already aware of the direction the conversation was indicating, Clarke’s ire continued to grow. “Mother. Do not start this again. I have explained to you that I was bid to keep the news from everyone, I had no inclination as to Bellamy’s plan to announce the news to the entire assembly as he did.”

“Yes it is just as you have told me Clarke. You were bid to secrecy by your husband to keep such profound news from even your mother and you followed his order quite nicely. I am glad you have assented so well to obedience to your husband even if he does not hold your affections.”

“You are not being fair.”

“Not that it should matter to your highness what my feelings or thoughts on the matter are since you were not obliged to include me to be privy to your own, I shan’t think it will bother you overly much.”

“And now you are being spiteful.”

“No, I am being honest. Something I had hoped would be a trait you would inherit.”

“You do not want to be discussing the topic of honesty with me mother. I know full well there is much you have hidden from me over the years and to this very day.” Clarke was exasperated, “For instance, I had no idea you and Lady Sydney were so very close.”

“What are you talking about Clarke. I have no such close relationship with the lady.”

“But I saw her just now, leaving your chambers. I do not know of what you spoke of or for how long, but it did not seem to be a conversation that was between vague acquaintances.”

“This isn’t about how close I may or may not be with the Lady Diana, it is about how you so easily put me aside and left me out of your small circle of trust. As your mother I am most offended and I cannot see how that should come as a surprise to you.”

“Stop mother. Stop.” Clarke exclaimed, pinching the bridge of her nose as she squeezed her eyes shut in frustration, attempting to ward off the oncoming headache. “I have had enough of this. You can only ever seem to see my own failings and never your own. I do not know why you think I do not trust you, I am not the one who has been closed off and careful of my words around you for the past few weeks. Mother please. I know you are keeping things from me, and I do not care. You need not tell me everything all at once, but I need you to be honest with me right now.”

“Very well then. With all honesty, I am unsure I even know who you are anymore.”

“What?”

“I was hurt when I received the news of the child among the masses, I admit,” the Dowager Queen began, causing Clarke to scoff at her admission. “But more so than that, I was afraid.”

“You were afraid? Of what exactly?”

“Of losing you.”

Not having expected the explanation, Clarke hesitated, “I do not understanding, how are you losing me?”

“We’ve had our differences, and lately our relationship has been strained due to circumstances, but I had not thought we had gotten so out of touch that you would not tell me that you were expecting.”

“Mother-“

“I know you explained the circumstances,” Abigail placated, motioning for Clarke to let her finish, “quite a few times already, and I understand what was decided and even the reasoning behind it. But the Clarke I knew, would have told me of such news, particularly news of such a joyous nature, regardless of the wishes of her husband, who I had been led to believe she despised quite thoroughly.”

“It wasn’t that simple.”

“Yes so you’ve said.”

“No. I meant- Of course I wanted to tell you mother. I just- I was scared as well.”

“You were scared to tell me?”

“Yes. No! I mean-“ Clarke paused, trying to organise her thoughts, “When I found out I was with child, I was terrified. I do not believe I am ready to be a mother. I know it’s expected of me. I know my duty, and maybe someday I would have relished the thought, but I panicked and-”

“What is it Clarke?”

Clarke hesitated, wrestling with herself as she knew what she was going to have to admit to. Something she hadn’t admitted to anyone, not even Raven.

Taking a breath, Clarke confessed, “I stole some mentha pulegium from the gardens-“

“Clarke!” The Dowager Queen gasped, clearly shocked. Her composed mask slipping to reveal her horror filled expression at what her daughter was insinuating.

“I was scared and alone and I felt trapped. I needed some reassurance that I had a way out of my current predicament and that I wasn’t as trapped as I felt. Mentha pulegium was a last resort and I was almost certain I would never actually use it. At least that was how I felt at the time.”

“Clarke, please tell me you would never resort to drinking pennyroyal tea-“

“Mother. Please just let me finish before you say anything else.” Clarke pleaded, taking a deep breath when Abigail’s silence allowed her to continue. “I had the plant as an insurance for myself, should it all become too much for me to handle. But I was doing okay, at least for a while. That night that Bellamy made the announcement, it brought it all back, all the feelings I had been pushing away and ignoring for months. It began to overwhelm me and when I went back to my chambers I had one of the maids boil some water. I was so frightened and hurt, I was seriously considering drinking the tea to free myself of my burdens. I had even taken out the plant out to prepare it.” Clarke recounted, as she was forced to relive the moment of sheer panic and fear that drove her to attempt something so dangerous.

“What stopped you?”

“A lot of little things. Guilt, doubt, fear. I do not rightly know. I suppose my logical reasoning woke up before I could do anything I couldn’t take back.”

“But to even go so far as to procure mentha pulegium…” Clarke’s mother muttered aghast, looking at Clarke with a pain-filled expression and for the first time in months, sympathy. “Oh Clarke, what were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t. And I do regret even thinking of going through with it, but I was scared mother. I was so scared and alone and-“ Clarke’s voice shook as she spoke, the echo of emotions she had felt on that day and the days since, surged up and tightened around her throat. “It was all I could do just to throw the tea on the fire before I could change my mind again.”

Unable to look her mother in the eye any longer, Clarke fixed her gaze on the ground, her arms coming up to wrap around herself to act as both a comfort and a shield. Abigail remained silent, watching stoically as her daughter broke down in front of her as she related her tale.

“Those first few months were not easy either. I was able to get through it by allowing myself to remain in a state of denial. The more people who knew about the baby, the more real it became and the more overwhelming and frightening.” Clarke moved toward the window, putting space between herself and her mother, “I was relieved when Bellamy asked me not to spread the news, it meant I could hide from my new reality for just a few precious moments longer. And I am sorry mother.” Clarke braved a glance toward her mother once more, attempting to convey the earnestness of her words, “I regret that my fear prevented me from coming to you, but I did so in order to protect myself. I hope you can forgive me for that.”

“Of course Clarke.” Abigail assured, moving carefully toward her vulnerable daughter, “Of course I can. The one to apologise should be me. My behaviour was just as you accused me. I was selfish, cruel and entirely unfair to you. I am sorry Clarke. I should not have behaved as such.”

With a small hesitant smile, Clarke found the words that came to her lips were ones of sincerity. “I forgive you.”

“Thank you. And you need not feel afraid and alone Clarke. This child- your child is blessing.”

“This child is my duty-“

“No Clarke. Your child is a precious gift, no matter how they came to you, they’re yours’. You will be this child’s mother, and they will love you and you will love them. I promise.” Her mother was close enough now to reach out and gently take one of Clarke’s hand, squeezing it gently, “I know it seems scary at the moment but you will never be alone Clarke, even if I should not be by your side.” Abigail spoke softly, glancing down meaningfully at the small curve of her stomach.

With the gentle touch of her mothers’ hand on her own, Clarke felt her emotional walls break at last and like a flood they poured out of her with overwhelming force. Unrelenting until she was tucked up into her mothers’ familiar and comforting embrace. Steady hands brushed soothingly at her hair and face and rubbed calming circles on her back until her breath steadied and her tears had dried up.

“It’s okay Clarke. Everything will be okay.”

And although the rational part of Clarke knew they were not true, she allowed herself to believe her mothers’ reassuring words, just as she had done as a child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we are then! Hope you liked the update. Just some notes for the chapter;
> 
> \- Mentha Pulegium: also known as pennyroyal is a plant that was commonly believed to have been used to induce miscarriages during the medieval and ancient periods. It does have some pretty awful side affects and has even lead to death in some instances. Basically it was a risky endeavour and is not something that you would use casually.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
